


The Babymaker's Seventh Year

by MaraLynnCade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Body Modification, Consensual Gang Bang, Consensual Underage Sex, Cum Inflation, Enemas, Extreme Pregnancy, Hurt Jensen, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Lactation, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mpreg, Multiple Births, Pregnancy Kink, Ritualized Sex, Size Kink, Underage Mpreg, breast kink, occlusion, pierced nipples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLynnCade/pseuds/MaraLynnCade
Summary: Inspired by "The Babymaker" by Anonymous. A young Omega, Jensen was chosen to serve as the Community's fertility symbol in service to the Goddess. Castiel, a previous Babymaker, served as his tutor for his first year, assisting the virgin boy through his ceremonial fertilization by multiple Alphas and his first pregnancy and delivery of triplets. Omegas are biologically designed to be pregnant- very pregnant! They enjoy it. An Omega experiences the ultimate orgasm while giving birth as the baby presses on both the g-spot and the prostate. The Babymaker's fertility foretells the prosperity of the Community. Jensen has served well in his role. This is his final year.
Relationships: Castile/Gabriel, Jensen /Sam, Jensen/Castiel, Jensen/multiple Alphas
Comments: 59
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize to the readers of my other story, "The Soul You Save May Be Your Own". While traveling, I took a break to read some other fan fiction. "The Babymaker" really caught my imagination. Couldn't leave the storyline alone. This is the result. And I promise, I will finish my other story. Soon. Right after my carpal tunnel eases.

PART ONE

Jensen sighed as he stood before the trifold mirror. Six years had made a difference. Six pregnancies had made a difference. His body was no longer lithe and virginal. That innocent Omega boy was lost to the distant past, wooed into glorious service by Cas' excellent training. 

Jensen smiled, hands rising to cup his full breasts. The soft mounds of flesh overflowed his grip. His aureoles, once tiny and virgin pink, were now as big as his palms and rosy brown. The size and deepening color increased with each of his pregnancies. He flicked his index fingers up to catch the thick rings that pierced his nipples. The bells jangled musically. A lovely sound. A bell hung from each breast, one for each baby he had borne for the Community. Jensen bounced his heavy tits in his hands, letting the bells sing his praise. He had been a good Babymaker, a great Babymaker. The best the Community had every had. Everyone acknowledged that. The journals testified to his fecundity. As the embodiment of the Goddess of Fertility and Prosperity, the increased number of children in the village were living proof.

Not all the children had come from his body, of course. But he had set a good example. All the Omegas and many of the Betas had been inspired. The Community had increased in both population and territory while he served. He had indeed fulfilled his purpose and brought prosperity. He fingered the rings again, enjoying their music. Each year the rings had gotten bigger too. They had had to change them out for a bigger size to accommodate the always increasing number of bells. Tradition demanded that the Babymaker's fertility be celebrated with every step, every breath. At his request, the rings, the bells had been made heavier. He liked their weight to be a constant, delightful tug at his sensitive flesh. He ran his fingers over the bells. Twenty-three bells. Twenty-three babies. Soon to be more. No Omega in the history of the village had ever produced more. Jensen preened with pride. He had served well. He ran one hand down the relative flatness of his belly. He had delivered quintuplets less than three months ago. Five strong boys, each weighing between fourteen to fifteen pounds. Even though he had been obscenely huge, he had carried them to full term. He had barely been able to move by the time of delivery. The entire Community had been pleased and celebrated his outrageous girth. No premature deliveries for him. No undersized, sickly babies. He was a good Omega, a damn good Babymaker. He had carried each pregnancy the full forty weeks. None of his offspring had weighed less than twelve pounds. The biggest had been a glorious sixteen pounder. Oh! The orgasm that delivery had triggered still made Jensen knees weak with delight. 

Memories. Good memories. He had birthed triplets his first time. Two boys and a girl. They were five years old now. Too young to know for sure, but there were indications that Adam might be an Omega. And maybe, little Dean, too. He had heard speculation that one of his boys might follow in his footsteps. Not next year, of course. The boys were far too young. But perhaps the Sevenyear after this next. Jensen, himself, had only been eleven when he had been chosen. Some had thought he was too young, too small to accept an Alpha cock, to contain the volume of Alpha seed, to grow and push out healthy babies. He had proved all the doubters wrong. Jensen smirked as he ran his hands over his stretch marked abdomen. Beautiful silvery tracery like lace that would always bear witness to his service. Sammy found the stretch marks and his heavy, milky tits incredibly sexy. As did he.

Jensen angled his body before the mirror. He could easily remember the roundness, the fullness of each of his pregnancies. He had spent the last six years carrying the weight of Alpha sperm, growing it into fine Alpha babies. His little Omega prick hardened, thinking of the fast approaching ceremony. Preparations were well underway. The quints were weaned and had taken to their rightful place in the Orphan House. His diet had already been adjusted to stimulate hormone production, to increase the production of eggs as well as his stamina. He would need all of his strength to withstand the arduous breeding ritual one final time. He pressed into the softness of his belly. Oh, yes! He could feel the swollen fullness of his three egg sacks. Were they larger than last time? Or was that only wishful thinking? The Babymakers tended to be more productive as they matured in their Sevenyear. Most, but not all, had their highest volume pregnancy their final year. Carefully Jensen massaged the tender organs as Castiel, his first year Keeper had taught him. He was vain enough to acknowledge that he would like his final offering to the Goddess to be truly spectacular. He knew that all the Council, indeed all the villagers shared his hopes. Afterall his fecundity foretold the coming year's prosperity. He profoundly hoped to exceed last year's success. If he could carry quints, why not sextuplets? Or even septuplets?

He had borne triplets his first two years. Then three fine sets of quads. And finally last year's quints. Nineteen boys and four girls in total. A good ratio for a community that needed strong hunters and laborers to survive. He palpitated the tender sacs, encouraging their swelling, willing more eggs to be produced. Jensen saw no reason why he couldn't carry six this time. Both Ellen and Cas agreed that he was a remarkable Babymaker. He flushed with pride, determined to be remembered in the journals as the best Babymaker ever. Maybe, seven.

It was not an unreasonable goal. He was obviously incredibly fertile. With the increased population there would be more Alphas than ever to complete the ritual. Last year there had been four new clans accepted into the Community. This year there had been seven. And Ash- he must’ve forget Ash- his old friend had finally reached maturity and would service him for the Harvelle clan, this year. There would be no need for Ellen to symbolically fertilize him with a spunkless strap-on. He hoped the awkward, older boy he remembered from the Orphan House had grown into his gawky body. And that his long slim cock had gained some girth. He remembered that the boy was prone to quick ejaculations. For a successful breeding the Babymaker required prolonged, vigorous fuckings by multiple Alphas. His hand patted his soft, now relatively flat belly. Soon it would be rounded by all that Alpha seed. Last year after the ritual had ended, he been nearly as big as Cas in his third month carrying another set of Gabriel’s twins. With a dozen new Alphas plus the Council and all the usual family representatives, he should be generously inseminated. And well and truly fucked, too! There were no admonitions that the Babymaker could not enjoy his role. And Jensen enjoyed being fucked. And he enjoyed being pregnant. He really enjoyed deliveries. Six, he decided with determination. At least six. Maybe seven.

He let his hand journey lower, beneath his small Omega penis was his cunny . His ‘front hole' as he had naively called it when Castiel had first introduced the subject of him becoming the Babymaker. He had been afraid it would hurt when an Alpha thrust his big cock into his tight channel. He had been afraid he couldn’t carry babies. Wasn’t strong enough to push them out of his little cunny. Oh, how foolish he had been. His cunt was wondrous. A pliant tunnel capable of the ultimate pleasure. It led to his womb where new lives began and grew. His body was the marvelous embodiment of the Goddess herself. 

His fingers grew slick as he parted his nether lips to toy with his swollen clitoris. These days it was almost always erect, just begging for stimulation. That was a sign of his fast approaching heat. Soon. He stroked himself. Soon. His body needed little encouragement. The fever of rut was building. He could feel it. It was coming. Soon he would burn. 

*

It is over. The final breeding was done. With a sigh of regret, an exhausted Jensen allowed the attendants to lift him off the last depleted Alpha. The man limped out, clutching his wrung dry balls as the dutiful Betas carried the Babymaker to the bathing pool. Jensen lolled in the warm water. He fought to remain conscious. The ritual was over. He had been fucked, nearly nonstop for more than eighty hours. He had been well inseminated indeed. This would be his last pregnancy as the Babymaker. He wanted to savor each moment.

The attendants soaped silky cloths to wash his over used, abused body. One had to lift and support each limb as the others cleaned his flesh. He was too exhausted to move on his own. Reverently the Betas tended him. Their touch was gentle as they laved his full breasts, his distended belly. His abdomen bulged as big as any full term Beta female. He was that full of Alpha seed. Two lifted and parted his legs, exposing his bruised and battered cunt. Eyebrows rose in surprise, lips parted in admiration. They had thought to find the over used orifice gaping, maybe even torn and bleeding. Instead the precious Omega center was drawn tight so as to retain the multitude of doses of Alpha cum spilled inside. Each Beta wondered privately, perhaps with a bit of envy, how it felt to serve as the Babymaker. More importantly, how many babies would he carry. The best of the seed would fertilize the Omega's eggs, the majority would nourish this new pregnancy. With the utmost care, they turned and bathed the exhausted body, honored to be of service. Discreetly they measured his dimensions. Records must be maintained for history. When every inch of flesh had been cleaned and rinsed, they lifted the seemingly boneless body from the pool. Soft warm linens cocooned the Babymaker as he was carried to an awaiting bed.

A sigh of pleasure escaped as Jensen sunk into the soft bedding. The gold flecked green eyes battled to remain open but could not. His last sight as his slipped into well earned sleep was of the breeding plinth. A smile curled the chafed lips, the ritual site was a debauched ruin. He inhaled deeply, the overwhelming scent of sex, soothing him to sleep.

*

"Well, are you going to sleep all week?" A familiar voice roused Jensen from the depths of slumber.

"Maybe." Jensen yawned, stretching cautiously as his over taxed body protested. He was not as young as he used to be, it reminded him. This was his seventh breeding. His final pregnancy as the Babymaker. Well aware of that fact, Jensen opened his eyes to smile up at his old friend and former teacher.

"How are you?" Castiel asked, more than a little concerned. Jensen, no long had a Keeper to oversee his care. And the boy could be daring, maybe even reckless at times.

"Excellent!" The smile widened to a well satisfied grin, as Jensen pulled aside the warm bedding to bare his bulging belly. "The Alphas serviced me well."

Cas' mouth formed into a ring of awe. He had never seen a Babymaker so cum-inflated. Nor, he was sure, did the journals record such distention from any breeding. As had come to be expected, Jensen had shattered all the norms. He reached out to touch the domed flesh reverently. 

Jensen covered his hand, pressing it tight to his taut belly. "I'm hoping for at least six." He whispered conspiratorially, voicing aloud for the first time his fondest desire. "Maybe seven."

Castiel chuckled softly. This boy! He shook his head, suddenly remembering one of their first conversations. He shared the memory. "Remember when you worried about getting fat?"

They laughed together. "What did I know? I was a stupid virgin! Barely eleven years old!" Jensen gripped the hand against his belly. "Lucky for me I had a good teacher. And an even better friend."

Cas blushed at his praise. Late term hormones made him prone to emotional swings. Jensen certainly understood. He eyed the nearly ripe belly tenting Cas' embroidered tunic. Cas, he knew was carrying triplets this time for Gabriel. Clan Novak was well served by the former Babymaker. He had already added six fine children to their number. Soon there would be three more suckling at Cas' tits.

The thought of Sammy breeding him for Clan Winchester, flitted through Jensen's mind. It would be a pleasant consolation to hold onto for when his Seven-year was done. He knew that any subsequent pregnancies wouldn’t be the high numbers he bore now. That required multiple Alphas. But Jensen was confident that what his next pregnancy lacked in number would be compensated by quality. He was sure that in each of his litters, the biggest babies had been Sam's. And if not Sam's, then certainly John's, for they bore the look of the Winchester Clan.

Pleased with the direction of his thoughts, Jensen rolled to a more up right position. Cas, ever considerate, adjusted the pillows to support his body. Jensen was comfortable with his nudity, proud of his condition. He spread his legs to accommodate the heaviness of his bloated womb. Cas frowned at the technicolor bruising of the clenched cunt. He suspected that the muscled channel was equaled bruised internally. Now that there was no Keeper in the Babymaker House. Cas could only hope that Ellen, the Master Midwife and the assigned attendants could adequately see to Jensen’s care. The boy could be a challenge at times. Jensen was known for driving the Alphas into a rutting frenzy, before milking their knots. Most of the Alphas in the village would be walking gingerly for days to come, their balls wrung dry by this incredible little Omega.

"Here." Cas handed over the basket he had brought. Jensen was quick to fold back the lid. He grinned at the sight of his favorite treat. Unashamedly, he shoved a whole sweet biscuit into his mouth. "Chew that! Before you choke!" Cas admonished. "You don’t have to wolf them down. I made a double batch. One for you and one for the children." He stroked his own roundness fondly. For an Omega there is nothing better than to be swollen with new life. Castiel loved this life.

Jensen's grin turned devilish. Around the mouthful of sweetness, he managed to suggest, "Maybe you can provide some milk to wash these down."

The letdown reflex was instantaneous. Cas had been milk heavy since the first pair of twins. This wouldn't be the first time he had suckled Jensen. He opened his bodice willingly. Jensen moved over, making room for Cas to get comfortable on the bed at his side. He settled eagerly at the breast. He took all of the aureole in his mouth as he sucked gently. One hand came up to massage the breast as his mouth worked, encouraging the flow and continued production. The other hand snuck beneath the gaping tunic to explore the hard bulge of the belly. One baby turned beneath his questing hand, causing a chain reaction to cartwheel within Cas' full womb. 

"How soon?" Jensen asked as he switched to the other breast. He didn't want to drain his friend. Cas had many hungry mouths at home to feed. But his milk was rich and delicious. It satisfied a need Jensen didn't know he had.

"Three. Four weeks at most." Cas luxuriated in the other Omega's attentions. Jensen's mouth felt so good, soft, easy and undemanding. Sometimes the children, even Gabriel, were careless in their eagerness to sup from him. "They haven’t dropped yet." He stated the obvious. Soon he would have three more at his breasts. One of the advantages of no longer being the Babymaker, was that the babies he bore did not have to be prematurely weaned to facilitate fertility and the next breeding. It wasn't uncommon for children in the Community to suckle intermittently until puberty. That served to strengthen the family bonds and promoted emotional well-being.

Cas combed his fingers through Jensen's unruly hair as the boy's cheeks hollowed at his breast. Raised in the Orphan House as he too had been, Cas realized, neither he nor Jensen had ever known the pleasure of suckling at their dam's breast. Was that an oversight in the Community’s lore or was the lack intentional? The Babymaker, by definition, had to be a triple ‘O’- an orphan, an Omega and an Only, with ties to no specific clan. Raised with no strong emotional bonds, was that how the Community ensured the Babymaker would surrender their offspring? Was that why the chosen were always so eager to please? The thought was almost heresy. Of course, it was the supreme honor to be chosen to represent the Goddess. And Omegas, by nature or design, were a biddable sort. Castiel tightened his grip as the young Omega continued to suckle. He was more than willing to give his young friend this gift. But he resolved, as the lull of being milked blurred his thoughts, he must remember to investigate this insight in the journals .

A polite knock at the chamber door, drew both their attention. Reluctantly, Jensen relinquished the flowing breast to call admittance. A familiar shaggy head peaked around the partially open door. Jensen beamed his welcome as Sam stepped in, his arms full. 

"May I come in? As you can see, I bear gifts."

"You are welcome. As always." He lapped up the errant trickle of milk that escaped Cas' generous bosom. "With or without bounty." Jensen can't resist. He settled in to suckle again at the first nipple.

Sam smiled his approval. He was glad to see that Jensen was taking nourishment. His eyes travelled down the well loved body. They widened at the sight of the distended belly, clouded with concern at the bruised crotch. Sam knew what to expect. He had seen Jensen through each of his pregnancies. And he was well educated in the lore. He knew the importance of the Babymaker. He knew. He just didn’t like it. Sam looked forward to the day he could claim Jensen as his own.

"The Council sent me to ask if you are ready to be presented to the Community?"

In his head, Jensen translated: I've been worried, driving Dad crazy. He gave his permission for me to come check on you. Then he realizesd that Cas had also come to check on him. It wasn’t just Sam being a worry wart. He glanced toward the window wall. The rising sun stained the drawn draperies. Jensen abandoned the flowing nipple. "How long have I been out?"

Cas answered quietly. "More than two full days. The Community is getting uneasy."

"But they can wait if you need more rest." Sam was quick to add. He knew that Jensen didn’t like him to worry. He hid his concern by hanging up the garment bag he carried.

Jensen smiled up at him. "Duty calls, Sammy. Got to show off the goods." He ran both of his hand over his cum bloated belly. "Can't have the people thinking you Alphas failed to do your part!" He shifted awkwardly on the bed, his center of gravity so suddenly altered. He reached a hand up toward Sam. "Help me up, will you?"

Sam ignored the hand. He gripped Jensen beneath both arms and lifted the small body from the bed with easy. He would have liked to crush him to his chest, hold him there and never let him go. But this was the Babymaker that he is aiding, not his lover. With care, Sam set Jensen on his feet. He steadied him until he found his balance. Before stepping away, Jensen reached up, to pull his head down for a sweet kiss, then whispered in his ear. "Next time, Sammy, next time will be just for us."

Sam stifled a sob by pressing a kiss to Jensen’s forehead. Then he forced himself to step back. He turned away quickly, trying to hide his emotions by undoing the laces on the garment bag. "A gift from the Clan Tran." Sam announced, shucking the protective wrapping with a flourish. The Trans were new members to the Community. They were renowned as Master weavers and tailors. It was a diplomatic coup that Sam had negotiated their joining the Community.

The robe revealed, was stunning. The fabric, a soft silk, had a shimmer of green to compliment Jensen's eyes and to proclaim his fertility. Sam lifted a fold. As if by magic the colors deepened to forest hues. Sam spread open the front panel to reveal the ermine lining. Jensen gasped. It must have taken more than a hundred pelts to line this garment. "You must convey my thanks and appreciation." Awestruck, Jensen reached out to touch the beautiful garment. "It's so soft." He gasped.

"There’s more!" Sam hurried on, eager to please his Jensen. He opened a smaller bag. "There's a matching vest. It's adjustable- see it laces up the back. And there's- what did she call it- boning! To support your tits, even when they get milk heavier. And this-“ Sam blushed as he pulled out an adorned cup with trailing laces. "She called this a codpiece." Sam shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "It’s to cover your—“ he broke off, blushed even more and pointed to Jensen’s crotch. The man was, Castiel thought with great affection, such a boy. “Mrs. Tran said this would be more comfortable." It was as elaborately decorated as the vest and it too was lined with the precious ermine. It would tickle his clit, Jensen thought, as Sam struggled to continue the explanation. "Supposed to be less constricting than the conventional leggings." Sam ducked his head, and mumbled. "I told her I didn’t think it was right for you but she's a hard woman to argue with. Especially about stuff like this."

And Sam knew nothing about clothes or fashion. Just what was warm and what was weatherproof. Jensen smiled at his friend and lover. "It’s okay, Sammy. I'm sure she knows what she's doing. I bet you'll like it when I’ve got it on. Go tell John that I’ll be ready in an hour. Cas, please, send in my attendants as you leave."

*

Once again Jensen preened before the trifold mirror. His makeup was complete. The paints subtly accented his best features, his eyes and his lips. There was no need for blusher or anything more, his overall color was good. In fact, some might say he was glowing! The appropriate sigils had been carefully painted on his abdomen and across his breasts. All were clearly defined, bold enough to be visible from a distance. His new outfit made sure of he was visible! Mrs.Tran sure knew her stuff! Jensen thought. He looked good, damn good. The vest, was really more of a corset. It lifted his tits, squeezing them up and out, presenting the twin mounds, cantilevered, for all to see. His nipples were left uncovered, of course. The rings swung unimpeded. The bells chimed with each movement. The corset also showed off his rib cage emphasizing not only the fullness of his tits but the heaviness of his cum-filled belly. And the codpiece- Sam might not approve but Jensen thought it suited him perfectly. And the lining was so soft against his nether parts! The little triangular pouch molded to his pubes, concealing his cock, balls and cunny nicely. Just barely. A strap attached at the lowest point. It ran up the crevice of his ass, covering his anus, separating the buttocks to emphasize their firmness. At the small of his back, the strap connected with the side bands, leaving his beautiful belly fully exposed as well as nicely framed.

The robe, the beautiful robe, covered it all. Or it could if he wanted to be modest. Jensen grinned- he was anything but modest! The full sleeved garment fastened at his collarbone. The front could be securely laced closed, from his neck to his toes. Or the sides could be swept back, secured at the back into a fluffy cascade of fabric and furs that counterbalanced his exposed flesh, as well as his size. He should have felt ridiculous in all this frou-frou he knew. But he didn’t. He pivoted before the mirror, examining his body from all the angles. How had Mrs. Tran known that he would look so damn good like this?

Jensen caught the appreciative eye of one of the hovering attendants. "Can you pull the laces tighter? Push my tits up just a littler higher?"

*

Another polite knock. This one firmer, more authoritative. An attendant scurried to open the door. John entered, dressed in his finest. His jaw went slack when he saw the Babymaker. John fought to keep his expression stoic. It would be unseemly for the head of the Council to gape. Or choke. John bowed deeply. As he righted himself, he offered his arm.

"Babymaker, may I escort you to the Presentation?" 

"It would be my pleasure, Council President."

*

With measured steps, John led Jensen out of the Babymaker's house into the plaza beyond. There the crowd awaited them. Jensen recognized many of the Council members in the front ranks. He caught sight of Sam lurking in the background. His heart panged at his sullen appearance.

A murmur ran through the crowd. The murmur grew as they advanced. John led the Babymaker up to the dais. Gabriel stepped forward to offer his hand. It wouldn’t be good to have an accident now. Jensen ascended with innate grace. Two steps, four steps. All the way to the top. John and Gabe stepped back, leaving Jensen to stand alone. Jensen stepped up to the edge of the small stage. It was important that he be seen by as many as possible. The crowd surged forward. The murmur grew into a cheer. Jensen smiled coquettishly, pouting prettily, batting his mascaraed lashes. One hand rose to skim over his holstered breasts, down over the swell of his distended abdomen. He brought the other hand up, placing one on either side of his navel. His hands hardly covered any of his bloated belly. Jensen jiggled his belly. "Am I big enough for you?" He shouted, grin stretching his pretty mouth. The crowd cheered wildly. "Didn't our Alphas do a great job?" He turned from side to side showing everyone just how cum filled he was. The cheering swelled again. The entire village would celebrate tonight.

*

It took more than a week for Jensen's belly to deflate. It took longer for the bruises on his cunt to fade. Each milestone was duly recorded in the Babymaker journals. Ellen, the midwife, visited regularly. Each visit was followed by a new round of speculation. Everyone counted the days until the Quickening.

To calm fears, Jensen made a point of being seen frequently in the village. When his belly had finally deflated, rumors had swept the Community that he had miscarried. Panic threatened. The Council had had to call an emergency meeting, trying to assuage everyone's fears. Their words had done little good. Rightfully concerned about the Community, Jensen had taken it upon himself to stroll the market the next day. Sam and Gabriel served as his escorts. While it was true that his belly was temporarily flatter, all could plainly see that he was healthy, blooming actually. The rumors quieted immediately.

At the eight week mark, Jensen was obviously pregnant to even the most cynical observer. His baby bump protruded prettily between his sharp hip bones, set off by an ever increasing array of Mrs. Tran's artful codpieces and corsets. His nipples had darkened to a rich mahogany shade and grown puffier. So much puffier that his current set of rings pulled unattractively and uncomfortably at his piercings. A clever metalsmith noted the changes and gifted him with a new set of larger rings with matching bells. The man has a genius at his craft. Not only did their rose-gold color stand out nicely against his darker nips but the man had gone to the trouble to fashion each bell to match the weight of each baby he had borne- kilograms for pounds. A subtle difference that served to emphasize his success as the Babymaker, as each bell had its own tone. His every movement produced a symphony of perfectly tuned notes. Twenty-three strong healthy babies it sang. And as an added bonus, the weight was a delicious tug on his sensitive titties.

Jensen found he had to be careful as he walked the market. Anything that caught his eye, that he paused to admire was immediately offered as a gift. The merchants were all eager to show their gratitude, to pay homage to their revered Babymaker and thus to the Goddess. And Jensen could not refuse their tributes. To do so would be the most egregious affront. All were so willing to give, Jensen worried he would bankrupt the merchant class. Sam allayed his fears as he pointed out that all were equally eager to proclaim his favor. 

The Tran's codpieces served as an example. Soon they had become the must have fashion. Even John Winchester had donned the fad- in a much less abbreviated version. After all, Council, too, had to support the merchants. And the popularity of rose-gold jewelry soared, making the clever metalsmith happy as well as very wealthy.

After that Jensen tried to maintain a fair and evenly distributed patronage.

*

His belly grew steadily fuller as the Quickening drew nearer. The oddsmakers were favoring another set of quintuplets. Quads were the next favorite. Jensen, of course, kept his opinion to himself. It wouldn't be right to skew the odds.

*

Jensen lay quiet in the predawn. Not even his current batch of attendants were stirring yet. This was the best time he had discovered. When all was quiet and the world still slept, he could feel them best. One little flutter of life. Two. Three. Four. He was sure he felt four. He held his breath, hoping for more.

Four were nothing to be ashamed of he told himself sternly. Until he had birthed quintuplets last year, quads had been exceptional and celebrated. That's what you get for raising the standard, eventually you let everyone down. A sob caught in his throat.

He wished Sammy were here to hold him. No one seemed to begrudge his Sam's comfort this time around. But Sam was away on a hunting trip/ diplomatic mission. He hadn't wanted to go. He hadn't wanted to leave Jensen. Not now with the Quickening expected any day. But necessity was demanding. The Dark Wolf tribe to the west felt increasingly threatened by their Community's continued prosperity and expansion. There were grumblings of war. Jensen could not put his personal needs before the welfare of the Community. As the Council's emissary, Sam had had to go.

Sam would be back soon, Jensen told himself. Sam would be back safely, he prayed. 

The butterflies within his womb stirred again. The sequence began anew. Number One, high, just below his heart. Number Two, dead center. Number Three, on the left. Number Four, lower and on the right. Jensen's breath caught. Five? Yes! He felt the fifth little flutter right above his cervix. There were five, of that he was certain!

Jensen grinned into the darkness. At least he would not disappoint the Community. He petted his ever expanding belly lovingly. Ellen was due to check on him today. She was an experienced midwife. She would know he had felt the stirrings of life. She would insist upon scheduling the Quickening ceremony. Somehow he had to persuade her to wait for Sammy's return before she summoned the Council. Sam had been an instrumental part of each of his previous Quickenings, ever since Cas had discovered that orgasm facilitated the best results with his body. Sam had held him, the stout battering ram of his cock snugged up tight to his cervix, for each official count. He could not possibly go through the ceremony without Sam!

*

Gentle hands moved over his abdomen, palpitating every inch. Ellen pressed her ear more firmly against the taut flesh. She shifted several times then sat up to eye him clinically.

"How do you feel?" She asked, lubing her hand for the upcoming internal examination. "How's your appetite?"

"Good." Jensen was happy to report. "I feel great." He had never been cursed with morning sickness. Another sign that he was meant to serve the Goddess. A barfing Babymaker did not bode well for the Community!

"Spread your knees." Ellen nodded and ordered. Obediently, Jensen's bowed legs swung wide. "Not that far." Ellen chastised, then teased. "I'm not an Alpha, after all. Here we go." Ellen inserted three fingers between his labia. She massaged gently, opening him gradually, aware that it had been nearly a week since Sam had departed. Jensen was always careful to be free of Sam's spunk when she examined him, but an experienced midwife could always tell a well plowed furrow. She added her fourth finger then her thumb and went deeper. Jensen had the deepest vagina that she had ever examined. Her thumb accidentally grazed his g-spot. The entire channel rippled around her hand. Jensen gave a small cry of pleasure as his cunny clamped down upon her wrist.

"Don't squeeze!" She managed through gritted teeth. "You'll break my hand!"

By the Goddess! Ellen had new sympathy for the Alphas who bragged/ complained about bruised cocks and wrung out balls after each Breeding. Sam must have a shaft of steel! "Think of something else!" She encouraged.

"I have to pee." Jensen whined. Ellen always insisted he have a full bladder for each exam. 'Better acoustics', she claimed. Well, he had drunk the damn prescribed two liters and now he had to pee. And he had his midwife with her hand stuck up his cunny. He would laugh if he weren't so tempted to cry in frustration.

Eventually Ellen felt the muscular walls relax slightly. "Just a few more minutes." She promised as she pressed deeper. Her fingers butted up against the cervix. Carefully she explored the clenched ring of muscle thoroughly. Everything seemed good, normal. The cervix was hard and tightly closed, not unduly sensitive. Satisfied, Ellen withdrew her hand. One of the waiting attendants passed her a cleansing cloth. Another hurried to position the urinal for Jensen's use. Ellen knew that Jensen hated the urinal- it didn't matter that it was a precious work of art made entirely of cased silver. Jensen preferred to stand on his own two feet when it came to urination. It was the one thing he truly hated about his pregnancies - being bedridden and having to 'piss in a damn pot.' Well, maybe not the only thing, Ellen thought, hiding a smile. Jensen depised the bedpan even more!

"Well, everything looks good." Ellen reported as Jensen sat up, waiving off the assistance of his attendants. She caught his eye, gauged his nervousness and stubbornness by six years of experience. "When is Sam expected back?"

Her question clearly caught him off guard. "Three, four days at the most! He promised." Jensen assured her with faith reminiscent of a five year old.

"Alright. I'll tell John to schedule the ceremony a sevenday from today."

Jensen beamed as he expressed his gratitude.

*

Hushed voices woke him. And what could only be described as, a stench. Both were unusual. It was the attendants' privilege to guard his sleep, to see to all his needs.

The commotion grew. One voice, in particular, louder, more insistent. Jensen recognized that voice! 

"Sammy!" He called, escaping the comfort of his bed.

"Jen!" Sam roared from the outer chamber. "Damn you! Let me pass!"

Jensen flung open the door of his chamber to find Sam struggling beneath the weight of all eight of his attendants.

"Let me go!" Sam demanded. "I don’t want to hurt but I will if I have to..."

"Release him!" Jensen barked the command at full voice. Seeing Sam wrestling with all those young, nubile bodies was not at all to his liking. At once, the attendants obeyed, stepping back. Sam got his bearings, locked eyes with Jensen. He worked to pull himself to order. Or tried to. The odor increased as he straightened his clothes. His riding cloak was a mud caked mess, that reeked of horse sweat and other less savory scents.

"You stink!" Jensen proclaimed honestly, unable to resist stating the obvious truth.

Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Thanks." He drawled, clearly annoyed. "I love you, too. That’s the thanks I get for riding two days and a night to get here." He glared at the attendants. "That and getting jumped by this band of pea-brained idiots." Sam flung his filthy cloak to the floor at Jensen's feet, sneering at the chastised onlookers. "I could break every one of you in two, just like that!" He snapped his fingers to demonstrate. "I could-“

"Enough." Jensen intervened, going to Sam despite his deplorable state. "You’re here now and that's what's important." Jensen stretched up to claim the stern mouth, thankful he could control his gag reflex. "You," he began issuing orders. "Fill the deep bathing pool. You, get soaps and shampoo. Lots of both. Preferably sometimes woodsy, not floral. You, warm oil. He'll need a massage after so long in the saddle. You, take that," he pointed to the attendant that had been straddling Sam's hips then to the disgusting cloak "Wash that. If you can’t rid it of the stink, burn it. You, bring a hot supper. And whatever sweets are at hand. You, get wine." The attendants scattered, each to his task, as Jensen began to pull Sam's clothes from his body. He dropped each garment into a pile an arms' length away. "You, see to that." He pointed to the heap. "You go to the the House of Winchester, roust the night guard if necessary. Bring back a fresh change of clothing." The Beta boy started off eager to do as commanded. "Don’t forget boots!" Jensen called after him. "These will need a week of polishing to get the manure from the stitching." And even then they’ll probably reek, Jensen thought but did not say. He knew these boots were Sam's favorite.

"Come," Jensen murmured, slipping an arm around a naked but still very smelly waist. "Let me take care of you."

*

The pair lolled in the warm, freshly changed water. Sam's thrice shampooed head, rested on the pool's padded edge. Jensen's head was pillowed by Sam's broad pectoral. Sam's free hand, moved languidly, stroking from ear to cheek, on down the curves, neck to breast to belly to buttocks. Then back to start again. At last he gathered the courage to ask, "Am I too late? Have you Quickened while I was out playing statesman?"

Hearing his pain, Jensen hurried to reassure him. "It is set for next week. I've felt life. So has Ellen. But she knew I couldn’t complete the ceremony without you."

Sam bent to place a kiss on Jensen's forehead. His eyes closed, relief and exhaustion, demanding he surrender. Jensen smiled, against the well muscled chest. He shifted to kiss the tight bud of the nearby nipple. He loved Sam's perky little nips! He sank back into the warm water. There were worse places to sleep, he thought as a yawn claimed him. The attendants would see that they didn’t drown while they kept a fresh supply a warm water flowing.

*

"That’s it, Sam. Just one more hard thrust. Yes, just like that." Ellen instructed as she shifted the ear trumpet yet again. Counting multiples was tricky business.,"

"Ellen, I don't think..." Sam began, struggling to speak coherently.

"Don't think!" Ellen snapped, concentrating on the uterine heartbeats. "Do it!"

Jensen went taut beneath their hands. He cried out as a third orgasm wracked his body. Sam groaned, instinctively pushing into the depths of his lover then going completely still. Jensen went limp in his arms, only his greedy pussy still active.

"Got it!" Ellen announced triumphantly, as she sat upright. "You can rest now."

"No." Sam answered between gritted teeth. "I can't."

"Oh!" Ellen responded, belatedly realizing what had transpired. "Um, I just... we'll just.. um.. step outside."

"Do... that." Sam agreed, as the strong muscles of Jensen's channel rhythmically milked his knot. He groaned, eyes rolling back as the first of his seed spilled forth. Knotting wasn't supposed to be part of this ceremony.

Red in the face with embarrassment, Ellen approached the waiting Council. Although they were here to bear witness, tradition demanded that they respect the Babymaker's privacy and the secrets of Midwifery by keeping their back discreetly turned throughout the procedure.

Ellen faced them now. Ten senior members of the Council who knew exactly what the situation was. More or less. There was no need to be embarrassed. Really. It was just mortifying that she had lost control of the situation. She was, after all, the professional.

"If we could all please step outside, Gentlepersons. The young couple are, um, going to be busy for a few, um, more minutes."

"More like the better part of an hour." Bobby Singer said with a wicked wink as he stepped past her.

"Bobby, some decorum, please!" Reverend Jim rebuked, following in his wake.

"Oh, don't get your feathers ruffled, Jim. You and I both know that that young buck's got a knot the size of a two fists and can outlast any three of us old farts combined. My apologies, John." He nodded to his old friend. "Not bragging. Just stating the facts."

"No offense taken." John answered laconically. He was rightfully proud of his son. Since birth he had been grooming the boy to take his place as Council head.

"Can we get down to the matter at hand, gentlemen?" Ellen put in, impatient to share her knowledge, and her burden.

"Our pardon, Midwife." John answered with his best courtly manners. "What are your findings?"

Ellen took a deep breath. She was about to make an unprecedented announcement. "There are eight."

"By the Goddess, the boy is a wonder."

"May the Goddess bless and keep our Babymaker!"

"We are truly blessed by the Goddess!" These and other exclamations overlapped each other as the Council processed Ellen's news.

John held his peace as the others expressed their enthusiasm. When their comments wound down, John asked, "What haven’t you told us?" He saw the concern in Ellen's eyes.

"Seven heartbeats are strong. The eighth is faint, hard to discern. That may simply be because of the sheer mass competing in a confined space." She looked each Councillor in the eye before she continued. "Or the eighth may be too weak to survive."

That sobered them quickly. Eight healthy babies were a cause to celebrate. Seven healthy babies plus one sickly or dead would plunge the Babymaker as well as the Community into profound grief.

"I estimate the weights of the seven to be between three to five pounds. Nicely sized for this stage of gestation. I could not even assess the eighth. Their size should double over the next few months. More than double again in the final trimester. I recommend that for now we announce only the existence of the seven. Even to Jensen. I will monitor him carefully. Perhaps by next month, we will have a more definitive answer." She smiled sadly, nearly certain that next month she would tally only seven heartbeats. "Jensen has been an outstanding Babymaker. The loss of one inuterine should not mar his record. Not all babies are destined to survive."

*

John watched as the Councillors filed out. They were in agreement on their course of action. Each would play his part for the benefit of all. When only Bobby lingered, John turned to Ellen again. "What else aren’t you telling us?" John demanded. He of all the Alphas knew the dangers of childbirth. He had lost the love of his life as well as his second son in the throes of labor.

"Merciful Goddess, John! We are talking about eight babies here! Even if it only ends being seven- No Omega has ever borne so many!" She threw up her hands in sheer exasperation. "And Jensen is so small, even after six breedings. Maybe because of those six breedings." It made sense that the repeated pregnancies would have stunted his growth. Ellen had always thought Jensen should not have served until this coming Sevenyear. He was younger now than most Babymakers at the beginning of their service. And now he was carrying octuplets!

"You didn’t think he could carry those quints last year." Bobby reminded her. "He came through that like a Alpha."

Ellen rounded on him. "Like an Alpha! You sanctimonious sack of sperm! I'd like to see you grow five babies in your belly!" Ellen drilled a finger into Bobby's incipient beer belly. "I know very well that Jensen carried those babies the full 40 weeks. Do you know that their combined weight was just over seventy-eight pounds! Add in another ten for each placenta. Do the math, Mr. Almighty Alpha! That’s nearly one hundred and thirty pounds. That poor little Omega is barely one hundred pounds himself. Damn it! He spent the final five weeks on bed rest! You know how he hated that. And now he's carrying eight! "

"Ellen" John interrupted, trying for reason, "What would you have us do?"

"There isn’t much we can do!" Ellen admitted, her voiced laced with defeat. "I suspected this was going to be a high volume, high risk pregnancy. I've been researching the medical records. There are some herbs used to facilitate multiples pregnancies. The Babymaker already routinely receives these. I can up the dosage, of course. We'll need to see that his diet is nutrition packed. He'll need every calorie to grow those babies!" Ellen hesitated, what she was about to suggest was a drastic step but she felt it was necessary. "There is one procedure- it is controversial but I think it is Jensen's best chance to carry these babies to term. It’s called ‘occlusion'. Simply put, the cervix and/or the vagina is surgically sealed." She saw the blank looks on their stupid Alpha faces. The Goddess knew that if it didn't involve popping a knot, an Alpha just didn’t get it. "I would suture - sew a couple of stitches into Jensen's cervix." Both men winced. "I recommend that I also seal his vagina in the same manner. Jensen has always been orgasm sensitive. Any sexual activity will only increase the possibility of spontaneous abortion. He could easily lose all these babies."

*

Jensen stroked his baby bump lovingly. Hell, he thought proudly, it wasn’t a mere bump! It would be a Goddess blessed mountain! Seven babies! His wildest dream had been fulfilled! He wanted to sing, to dance, to turn cartwheels of joy. Seven babies! But Ellen had cautioned he had to rest, take it ease, conserve his energy, avoid fast movement, avoid jarring his uterus - the list of don'ts went on and on. The woman wasn't only a midwife but a professional doomsayer! It was all so tedious and unnecessary.

Then he recalled the look on Sammy's face when Ellen had told them the good news. But Sam worried all the time too. Only this time he hadn't been just worried. He had been scared. Scared for him. Jensen didn't like that. He knew Sam's history, knew about his Mom and his baby brother. Sam had every right to worry and be afraid. Jensen didn't like being the cause of his fear, so he resolved, he would be good. He would obey all of Ellen's restrictions. He would follow all her recommendations but- but-

But she wanted to sew shut his cunny! That was going too far. That was crazy! Why didn't anyone else think that was crazy? He could- maybe- see the need for the stitches in his cervix. Maybe. Seven babies would be a lot of weight. That would put a lot of stress on the ring of muscle holding his womb closed. He had learned long ago that gravity was not his friend. Alright he would agree to the cervical thing. For the babies' sake. And to ease Sam's fears. But the woman wanted to sew up his cunny, too! No way we're they going to do that to him!

Vaginal Occlusion, Ellen called it. He didn't care what fancy name you gave it, he wasn't going to let them do that to him! No thank you! No way! No how! Uh uh! No thank you, ma'am!

Then he remembered the fear in Sam's eyes. She said it was reversible. She promised that it would only be temporary. Only temporary! Merciful Goddess! It was crazy, right?

Jensen inhaled a deep fortifying breath. He reached below the dome of his belly to trail his fingers over his cunt lips. His clit sprang to life, instantly wet and throbbing. He was an Omega after all, designed by the Goddess to be bred and like it. Being pregnant always made him extra horny. Maybe, just maybe Ellen's recommendation wasn't so outrageous. Maybe, for Sammy's sake, for his seven babies, he would just have to spread his legs and be brave.

*

"Relax." Ellen encouraged as she tightened the final strap. "These are just a precaution." She had never had to use the stirrups before with Jensen, had never had to strap him down. The boy was an Omega in every sense of the word- he loved being inseminated, he loved being pregnant. He was very cooperative in anything involving sex. But right now she couldn't risk him moving at the wrong moment. 

Jensen gulped. He didn't like this contraption. He didn't like the bindings holding his legs wide apart. And it felt weird down there. Ellen had swabbed something over his nether parts, up his channel to make the whole region numb. It felt weird. It felt wrong. He gripped Sam's hand more tightly, silently begging for his help. He wanted to scream, 'Get me out of here!' But he had agreed to this. Ellen said it was necessary. He trusted Ellen. She was the best midwife in the entire Community. He--

"Can you feel this?" Ellen asked, grasping the flaccid Omega penis.

"No. I don't feel anything." Jensen reported shakily, wondering what was being done to his private parts.

Ellen gently lifted the small organ, stretching it slightly. A wide strip of tape secured it out of the way. Next she picked up the speculum. Sam caught sight of the instrument and went several shades paler. Damn. She should have anticipated that the young Alpha would insist upon being at Jensen's side for the procedure. She should have screened off the surgical field. Too late now. She would have to forge ahead. Not trying to hide anything, hoping her casualness would reassure Sam, she deliberately lubricated the speculum generously.

With the device poised for insertion, she cautioned, "Let me know if you feel any pressure or pain."

Jensen nodded his understanding.

"Ready?"

Another nod of assent as a single tear rolled down his colorless cheek.

With steady pressure, Ellen inserted the device. It was the largest model among her equipment, necessary because of the depth of Jensen's vaginal channel as well as to optimize the operating field. Once fully inserted, Ellen slowly ratcheted the jaws apart, steadily opening Jensen's vagina until it was spread obscenely wide. The diameter of the opening did not surprise her, although the Omega would likely have found it a disconcerting stretch without the benefit of anesthesia. Or perhaps not. Jensen did rather routinely deliver twelve pound plus babies! This vagina was accustomed to stretching!

She was stalling, Ellen realized. Neither Jensen nor Sam would likely believe her, but she did not want to do this either. She felt like she was enviscerating a puppy. But her professional training as well as common sense dictated the need to utilize every prophylactic means available. Waiting for trouble, as some had advised (Thank you, Bobby Singer, you could be a real pain in the ass sometimes!), could lead to disaster. Spontaneous abortions or miscarriages happened quickly, often without warning. An Omega could bleed to death before medical help arrived. Most often an emergency hysterectomy was the only hope to save the Omega's life. Thankfully Jensen had consented before she had had to use that argument to persuade him.

Ellen took up the first sterilized needle. It, like the others she had prepared was already threaded with the highest quality silk, perfect for suturing. Ellen inserted the tip in the upper rim of the cervix. It took real effort to push the needle in, through the fibrous ring. Her uneasiness calmed as she worked. She was confident that this was the right course of action. The only course if Jensen wanted to bring these babies to term. She knotted each stitch as she progressed. Ten sutures forming a reinforcing web for the cervix. The black silk threads stood out starkly against the blood rich muscle. That was by design. Ellen wanted a clear delineation when she returned to cut these sutures, hopefully in five months.

Satisfied with her work, Ellen slathered the area with a slow dissolving, long acting antibiotic. They could not afford the danger of infection. That done, she released the speculum and removed the tool. Before her eyes, Jensen's vagina closed up, retuning to its natural state. For now.

Ellen spared a glance at the young couple. Sam was bent low, his forehead pressed to Jensen's as he murmured words of comfort, promised his love. Ellen truly wished she did not have to do this. She let her gaze drift downward, over the mound of the growing babies. They had already quickened. Every day they grew larger. Soon their movements would be detectably to everyone as they kicked and turned, battling for space in Jensen's overcrowded uterus. It had to be done. To shirk her responsibility, would be a disservice to the babies, to Jensen and to the Community, not to mention the Goddess.

Ellen pressed together the labia. Carefully she closed a clamp on the tender flesh. She looked up quickly to gauge Jensen's reaction. Nothing. The anesthesia was still in full effect. She arranged a series of six clamps, carefully checking the alignment. The channel must be completely sealed, the oh so responsive clitoris sheathed. Ellen picked up a new needle and set to her task. She would make two rows of sutures- an inner and an outer. The outer would be visible- a bold zigzag of stitches that shouted 'Do Not Touch.' The inner would be the last line of defense in case Jensen got desperate and tried to undo her work himself. This boy could be reckless. And five months of forced celibacy was a lot to ask of an Omega with an established lover.

*

Jensen struggled to position the mirror. The angle was still wrong. He couldn't get a clear view of his pubes, not with the bulk of his belly in the way. He had to see it! He had to know! It felt so weird down below with his cunny occluded. That was how Ellen described it- only she used the proper term- his vagina occluded. 

It didn't hurt. At least not after the first few days had passed. And Ellen had administered topical pain medication to ease most of that. Anything strong enough to kill all his pain might have harmed the babies. No one, most of all Jensen, would risk that. 

But, by the Goddess, he had a right to see exactly what had been done to his body! He had asked Sammy to look. And his strong hunter lover had done so with obvious trepidation. Sam had taken one glance, turned three shades of green and fled to the commode chamber where he puked up his lunch. After that, Jensen didn’t have the courage to ask anyone else. Even the attendants who regularly bathed him and saw to all his bodily needs seemed a bit squeamish when it came to the alteration between his legs. Jensen could only assume that he was now horribly, irreversibly mutilated despite any attempts Ellen made to reassure him.

Jensen might finally have been convinced if Sam hadn’t suddenly become too busy to even visit him.

*

Jensen tried to relax in the warm waters of the deep pool. Lately this was the only comfort he got. Even the softest bedding or clothing grated against his skin now. The water supported the babies' ever increasing weight. The soothing currents relaxed strained muscles and joints. And if he tried really, really hard he could remember how it felt to lay here in Sammy's arms.

A small sob escaped as he thought of his absent lover. Lover? Ha! They hadn’t made love since the Quickening ceremony. That was nearly three months ago. And since then he had gotten ginormous! It was no wonder that Sam didn’t want to be with him anymore! A tear rolled down his cheek. Followed closely by another. Soon he was sobbing unchecked, as his attendants stood by, wondering and worrying, unsure what to do.

*

"They tell me you are still not eating." Ellen began, a touch of exasperation coloring her voice, "That you haven't been for weeks now."

"I try." Jensen responded petulantly. The fact was that he had no appetite. The parade of healthy dishes they placed before him were all tasteless to him. He tried to choke down a few bites. But there was so much food he was expected to take in! It was impossible, Jensen concluded. And what was the point anyway. There was probably just no room in his baby stuffed midsection for his stomach to digest any food. "I eat what I can."

"It's not nearly enough to sustain you and the babies." Ellen was concerned about his rapid decline. "You are only taking in a small fraction of the calories and nutrients you require to grow these babies."

"They are growing!" He retorted. His indignation gave him the energy to draw aside the linen sheet to reveal his swollen abdomen. His belly was now distended nearly to his knees and protruded from his slim hips equally far. Beneath his taut flesh could be seen smaller protrusions, several clearly in the shape of a small foot or fist. 

Ellen knew that the babies were growing well. At her last exam she estimated that all were likely over eight pounds. And to her surprise there were still eight distinct heartbeats. "They are robbing your body of calcium, breaking down your muscle mass for proteins and other essential nutrients. Jensen," Ellen pleaded, "This can not continue. You are endangering yourself as well as the babies. If you won't eat, I’ll have to prescribe force feedings. A gastrointestinal tube or high colonics or both!" She saw his face go mulish. She captured his hand, forced it down, between his breasts and his belly, where his ribs lay just below the skin, no fat or muscle to pad the bones. "Jensen, you are starving yourself!"

He was surprised to feel his own ribcage. Ever since the occlusion, he had felt his body was not his own. It was just an expendable vessel for these babies. 

"I'll try to do better." Jensen promised.

And he meant it. But when the attendants brought his next prescribed meal, he managed to choke down only a bite from the first plate, another from second one and nothing from the remaining six before sending it all away. Ellen had no choice. He could not continue this way. She ordered a high colonic.

Jensen stoically endured as they pumped his intestines full of the nutrition packed fluid. Nor did he resist as she inserted the sterilized glass plug to insure that he retained the fluid until the nutrients could be absorbed. She wished that he had. She missed his fighting spirit. It would take at least four hours for his starving body to absorb these nutrients. With little to do in the meantime, Ellen sent an attendant to summon someone who hopefully would have some insight into Jensen's rapid decline.

*

Castiel soon arrived with his current set of triplets and Gabriel as escort. The former Babymaker and Keeper looked both well and happy. But he was rightfully concerned by Ellen’s summons. When Ellen described Jebsen's condition, Cas demanded to see his former charge immediately.

"He's resting comfortably." The attendant on duty reported as Ellen and Castiel slipped into the darkened room. "We turned him just a few moments ago." He smiled, eager to please the Midwife in command. Weeks ago she had warned them of the dangers of bedsores now that the Babymaker was on full bed rest. He and his coworkers conscientiously repositioned the Babymaker every thirty minutes.

Cas squinted into the half dark chamber. The room was stuffy, its air fetid and stagnant. Cas thought of the pleasant courtyard beyond with its sun dappled lounges, it's gentle floral laden breezes. Why wasn't Jensen resting there? The boy loved being out of doors, hated confinement of any kind. 

Cas stepped closer to the bed, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. Jensen seemed unaware or uncaring of his presence. He was facing away from the door. He made no effort to turn. He made not the slightest movement, even as Cas sat beside him on the bed.

Shocked by what he saw, Cas sank down upon the bed, his legs could no longer hold him. There, even in the dimness, every rib, every vertebrae stood out starkly beneath Jensen's pale skin. 

"My sweet boy!" He exclaimed reaching out to stroke the sweat dampened head. "What have they done to you?"

As the sound of the well loved voice reached Jensen, he stirred, craning his neck. "Cas?" He questioned. The name came out as hardly more than a defeated gasp. He struggled feebly to turn but had not the strength to even move his own body. After a moment's effort, he gave up. He was too weak, too tired to care.

Castiel reacted immediately. He rounded the bed. He gathered Jensen into his arms as best he could manage. “Rest ease, Sweetin’, I’m here to care for you.”

Jensen’s eyelashes fluttered, the nearly translucent lids lifted. His lips parted. He was so tired but he forced himself to speak. Castiel had other responsibilities now. “Your babies...”

“Don’t you worry about my babies. They are fine and lusty! We will work it out. Now you need my care.” He looked directly at his mate and the midwife. Fire in his eyes, he dared either to challenge. “And you shall have it!”

Jensen accepted his word. He relaxed into the loving embrace, his head pillowed on Cas’ bosom. Unconsciously he moved his head minutely from side to side as his tongue emerged to moisten dry lips. Cas recognized the cue. Without hesitation, he opened the front of his shirt. Beneath it he wore one of the new fashioned vests that supported as well as displayed milk heavy breasts. Cas lifted Jensen higher. With a sharp gesture he commanded the attendants to assist him as he adjusted the boy’s position. Jensen latched onto the nipple without prompting. He suckled strongly, humming with contentment as the rich milk flowed down his throat.

“Yes, good boy,” Cas murmured, petting whatever part of his friend that happened to come under his hand. “Drink all that you need. I have plenty of milk for all.”

*

Bobby Singer sauntered toward the Council Chambers with his usual relaxed gait. As he passed, members of the Community called a greeting. A few stepped up to engage him in conversation, sharing an opinion or a concern. Bobby was the Everyman of the Council. He might not have the bloodlines of Cain, or the suaveness of Dick Roman, or even the swarthy good looks of John Winchester, but everyone in the Community knew Bobby would listen and give his common sense opinion. If John Winchester was the head then Bobby was the ears of the Council.

At last reaching his destination, Bobby flopped down in the chair across from John. He might look relaxed, John thought but he saw the wheels turning in that salt and peppered head. John set aside the latest report from Sam. He looked at his old friend, brows on the rise. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s the latest?”

Bobby cocked his head, slouching down in his seat so he could cross an ankle over the opposite knee. He swiveled the chair a bit, once, twice, just enough to be sure he was comfortable and had John"s full attention. “Got us a real mixed bag brewing out there. Nothing to get your panties in a knot. Yet. But sooner or later the shit is going to hit the fan. Question is - whose shit and what fan!”

Years of experience helped John cut through those mixed metaphors. “Give me the worst, first.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes as he reported, “Folks are getting worried. Jensen ain’t been seen in too long. Weeks, fast piling up to months. Folks are thinking that he may be dropping those babies early. Some are getting nervous that early might end up sickly. Oddsmakers are doing big business on how soon. Nobody’s daring to put money down on anything but a good Birthing.” Bobby didn't add ‘Not yet’ but John saw it in his eyes.

“On the other hand— Certain busy bodies have taken note that Sam’s been gone on his latest 'hunting' trip a might too long. Martin harangued me for nigh on half an hour telling me how the boy had to out there hurt, maybe even dying. That if the Council didn't see fit to mount a rescue party, he and some of his buddies would. I managed to calm him down with the fact that if you were worried, you’d be doing your darnest to find that kid.”

“Thanks for putting out that fire.” John replied, his weariness showing.

“Interesting fact is not ten minutes later, Rowena’s got my ears pinned back, certain that Sam has run off with our Babymaker. That the whole village is surely doomed. ‘Tis only a wee moment ‘fore the Apocalypse commences.’“ Bobby did a rotten imitation of the fiery redhead’s accent. “Says she saw it all in her crystall ball. Had to point out to her that Jensen’s been seen a number of times since Sam left on his ‘hunting’ trip. Facts don’t weigh too heavy with her kind, you know. She’s got wind that something ain’t right, I'm telling you now, she’s going to keep poking about til she sniffs out the truth. Or just makes up worse.”

John made no reply. He arched in his chair, reaching with both hands to massage the small of his back. His body wasn’t meant to sit, worrying and planning if this, then that. He was a man of actions, not a damn bureaucratic. May the Goddess deliver him from this hell!

Bobby saw his friend’s fatigue, he knew the burden John shouldered. He cocked an eyebrow, his mouth drawn up into a twisted grin. “Got a new one for you.” He began by way of introduction. “Some folks don’t see why we need a new Babymaker. After all, they figure, Jensen's done a good- no, a great job. And he’s not even eighteen yet. There’s been Babymakers older than that when they started their Sevenyear. The way they figure it, Jensen could serve another Sevenyear, then one of his first born could take his place.”

“I hope you put the kibosh on that!”

Bobby waved aside that roar of indignation. “I laid it on thick. Tradition. The Goddess’s preference. You don't screw with a system that's worked for centuries. I stopped short at mentioning Sam and his right to a life with Jensen. But I think they got the message, all right! It might help if we started floating the new candidate' names. You know, get'em used to someone else instead of Jensen as Babymaker.

"No, absolutely not. It would be disrespectful to Jensen. It is far too early. And the Council may have a hard time choosing the next Babymaker."

"That many good candidates, eh?" Bobby asked, his tongue poking out his cheek. They both knew that there were never as many Omegas as the Community needed. And the number of qualified triple 'O's', was even more wanting. "Who are the most likely's?"

"There's that boy, Samandriel. And that little redhead, Charlie- don't ever- ever make the mistake of calling her Charlene- she'll kick you in the shin. Or worse." The bruise on his leg still throbbed. "It will be a tall order to follow Jensen. I like Charlie's fire but it may be too soon to have another female as Babymaker." Female Omegas tended to produce fewer and smaller babies. After Jensen, that would most likely be a severe disappointment for the Community.

"I don't know. That Samandriel ain’t much of an alternative. Seems a bit wimpy even for an Omega, if you ask me. Which you did. You think he can really handle an Alpha's knot, let alone a full breeding?"

"There were many who doubted Jensen." John reminded him. 

"Not me. I never doubted for a second that that boy had the Goddess' blessing." Bobby nodded, pleased with his own foresight. "What's the latest word? How's the kid doing now?"

"Better. Much better with Castiel back in charge. It was a near catastrophe but Ellen thinks he's turned the corner. By the way, Gabriel says the Council needs to reconsider the Keeper's term. And terminate the two month rotation of attendants,” John hadn’t been in favor of that change, but Dick Roman had persuaded the Council that it would be a boon to public goodwill, providing more opportunities for Family representatives to serve the Goddess. But as this crisis had proved, the attendants could not provide adequate care with so little experience. “Their care is sufficient when things are running smoothly but they do not have the expertise to deal with serious problems."

"Point well made. Gabe’s got my support. That the Babymaker's health was actually endangered is all the arguement you should need to convince the rest. Although I suggest that we wait until after Jensen delivers - don't want to raise any flags for the folks to worry on."

"My thoughts exactly." John agreed. "And we can hope that more candidates present before Jensen delivers."

"I'm with you there, Johnny-boy." Both were quiet for a while, each occupied in his own mind. John had only this day heard that another triple 'O' seemed to be in eminent first heat. John made a mental note to go by the Orphan House sooner rather than later to check out the boy named, Jack.

"So-o-o, how's our other boy doing?" Bobby finally asked, pulling John back to the here and now. John was Sam's biological father, no doubt of that but Bobby considered him every bit his son as well. With John being a widower, he and Karen had been there to help raise the kid. Family was more than blood in Bobby's eyes. John's, too.

"He's optimistic." John sounded as surprised as Bobby looked. "Really! I mean it! Both sides have agreed to a public debate. Hendricks has scheduled it for next week. And even, that hothead Walker, has agreed. Sam will finally get his chance to address the public directly. Sam is confident that once the Dark Wolves populace at large hear his assurances, those cries for war will cease."

"I don't know." Bobby said, scratching at his beard. "Why would that son of a bitch, Gordo, suddenly start singing another tune? If you ask me, something is up. I don't trust that bastard."

Neither did John. The man had argued too vehemently that now was the time for war. If the Dark Wolves waited, Walker said, the odds would not be in their favor. If they waited, their own way of life was doomed. He warned about the day, fast approaching when the Community would absorb the Dark Wolves as they had other clans. Now after bitter debate, after ever louder cries for war, why this sudden change? It did not make sense. But Sam was the one on site, perhaps he saw something he and Bobby did not. Or maybe Sam's yearning to return to Jensen, clouded his judgement. Who, what did he believe: his son or his gut? That was the dilemma John faced. The dire prospect of war with a neighboring clan weighed heavily on John. As did his sense of guilt about the secrets he kept. By Council decree, he could not tell Jensen of Sam's mission. Nor was he allowed to inform Sam of Jensen's illness. The Council had decided that the young couple would each be impaired by full knowledge of the other's circumstances. That John heartily disagreed was inconsequential. He was bound by his oath of office to obey a Council directive.

*

Laughter filled the courtyard as Castiel emerged from the kitchen. Both Jensen's and the triplets' peals combined to fill the air. The babies were in the low pool having their morning bath. Jensen, on a suitably padded and pillowed pallet, reclined beside. Two nannies, on their knees, hovered on the other side. They struggled in vain to wash their charges as the boys splashed delightedly in the shallow waters. And of course, the ever present attendants lurked in the background. Cas scowled at the imbeciles as he passed.

His little mischief maker, Loki, clambered to his feet, clutching the pool's padded edge for support. The nannies were quick to react. These two were a well practiced team. One kept her eye on the other two, while one dealt with Loki's antics. She lifted the baby off his feet. With some effort, she managed to seat the little boy in the water again. Loki, looked the nanny in the eye, then scooted his little butt close to the edge again. More quickly this time, he pulled himself to feet. He stamped his both feet, splashing all in and around the pool as he laughed and laughed. The boy was his father's child, his spitting image in fact, Castiel thought as he waved off the nanny's effort to again reseat the child. His triplets were already seven months old, Cas realized. Soon they would be walking, no running, on their own. He must remember to tell Gabriel that they would need a third nanny. He could see that this threesome would be a real handful, likely to each find trouble in a different direction.

Cas took his seat on the soggy, correct that, soaked cushion at Jensen's side. He set the tray he carried on the low table at their backs. Hopefully out of harms' and the waves' way. Growing in confidence, Loki was now jumping, both feet coming down to raise even higher surges of bath water. Jensen was thoroughly drenched, but did not seem to mind. He reached forward to offer the delightful child his hand. The boy mimicked his gesture but the distance was too great between them. Jensen struggled to move nearer. An alert attendant started forward. Castiel waved him back. Just because the Babymaker was confined to bed, did not mean his was paralyzed! Jensen needed to move on his own. He struggled but with some difficulty, closed the gap. Loki gripped his hand and clambered out of the pool onto his pallet. There he snugged into Jensen's arms. As the child had expected the Babymaker reached for one of the sweet treats, Jensen had ordered always to be close at hand. The boy popped it into his mouth with a smug smile.

We will need to have a talk about discipline, Castiel realized. Jensen, for all his proficiency at producing babies, had never actually raised one. As the lore dictated, his babies were moved to the Orphan House at the age of four weeks. That allowed the Babymaker eight weeks to rest and come into heat again for the cycle to begin anew. Of course there were some individual variations. Most Babymakers did not carry the full 40 weeks. Some required a longer recovery period. But for Jensen, the whole process had worked like clockwork.

Well, nearly so. Castiel did not care to consider the outcome if Ellen had waited even one more sevenday to summon him. Jensen had been so weak and emaciated when he arrived. The boy’s muscles had atrophied from his prolonged bed rest as his body cannabilized itself to nourish the ever growing babies. Cas had very nearly been too late. They had almost lost this precious boy!

The other two of his triplets had now crawled to the edge of the pool. They were determined not to be deprived of the treats their sibling enjoyed. "One for each. Then no more." Castiel informed Jensen, as the nannies lifted the babies from the pool. As Jensen passed out the treats, Cas took up the glasses from the tray.

"Try some of this." Cas encouraged as he passed Jensen a glass. Jensen eyed the thick green liquid doubtfully but took a sip. The flavor was actually quite pleasant to his taste buds and the coolness, soothing to his throat. He drank more willingly. Castiel hid his smile by taking a sip from his own glass. The concoction was packed with protein and essential vitamins. Jensen, need not know that fact. The intake of sustenance should be a pleasant event, including whenever possible, pleasant social exchanges. Jensen, before Cas' intervention, had quite literally been starving for love every bit as much he had been as for food.

"Ellen should be here soon." Cas warned. He saw the flinch that his young friend could not control. Although Jensen respected and liked the midwife, the Babymaker had come to dread the treatments she had to administer. His anus clenched in protest. Yet he could not deny their success. The high colonics combined with Cas' generous breastfeedings had undoubtedly saved not only his life but his babies. He would endure whatever was necessary, Jensen had resolved, to deliver his babies healthy and safely. That thought was reinforced as he felt Loki settle against the mountain of his belly, his small hands chasing the internal movements of at least two of his babies. Soon Thor and Odin joined the game. It seemed his septuplets were eager to play!

That was how Ellen found them when she entered the courtyard. Castiel’s triplet pressed to the Babymaker’s enlarged abdomen as his flesh rippled with fetal movement. It was such a happy domestic scene that she regretted the need to intercede. However her responsibilities were clear. The fact that the treatment plan she and Castiel had devised had proven so effective eased any misgivings.

Jensen did not protest as the attendants lifted his baby-heavy body into position. The custom made frame was angled to encourage the flow into his bowels. It was comfortable enough. Padded cross pieces supported his shoulders, legs and hips. Adjustable slings held the weight of his breasts and belly. The change of position was actually beneficial, relieving the pressure on his spine and diaphragm, allowing him to breathe more deeply as well as stretch a bit.

Jensen suppressed a sigh as he watched Ellen prepare the feeding. It looked to be at least two liters. She tested the temperature, the consistency and added more liquid. Maybe more than two liters, he concluded.

"Don't worry." Cas patted his shoulder, offering encouragement. "You can handle it. Ellen and I thought that if you can manage a bit higher volume, we can reduce the colonic feedings to twice daily. Do you agree? Do you want to try?"

"Yes, please." Castiel bent down to reward him with a kiss on the cheek. Jensen was such a good Babymaker, enduring so much suffering without complaint. Cas understood that being informed of his treatments, being involved in the planning made it easier for Jensen to endure the discomfort. No one liked being treated like an insentient animal, especially when one was supposedly the embodiment of the Goddess!

As two attendants lifted the colonic can into position, Ellen moved to sit by Jensen's head. Castiel had made it clear that she must work to reestablish her relationship with Jensen to continue healing his spirit. To her everlasting regret, Ellen had to concede she had lost sight of importance of the Omega/midwife relationship in her desperation to see this gestation to a succeful outcome. "When I arrived," Ellen began, by way of beginning a conversation. "It looked like you were having a good time with Cas' brood."

"They are so much fun. Cas promised that Gabriel will bring all the children the next time he visits." Jensen bit his lower lip, afraid he had said too much. Two more sets of triplets, ages four and two. Surely the midwife would deem that too stressful for him in his current condition. It was his job to rest and grow these babies.

"That should be interesting. I remember how much of a handful Jo and Ash were when they were toddlers." Ellen looked over to Cas, "I don't know how you manage them all."

"With a lot of help!" Castile responded truthly.

"I like to help." Jensen admitted wistfully. “I like babies.”

Ellen found she had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. "Of course, you do!" More than six years as the Babymaker, twenty-three, soon to be more, babies and Jensen had only now had the opportunity to discover he enjoyed children. Perhaps the Community expected too much of their Babymaker, Ellen thought as she saw that the attendants had hoisted the colonic can to the proper height. She suppressed a sigh. It was time to begin. "Are you ready?"

Jensen nodded, resigned. He would endure what must be.

"How about a back rub?" Castiel offered brightly, knowing that a loving touch would help his young friend through this arduous challenge. Cas had warm oils on hand, a special blend that moisturized as well as envigorated. Jensen, by necessity, spent far too much time reclining. His skin still had too little flesh padding the bones. Without proper care, pressure sores were a possibility.

*

From the safety of the shadows, Rufus watched as they gathered. They were bold to meet in the light of day. They came in two and threes. Most moved cautiously, looking nervously over their shoulders as they waited for admittance. But not this one. By his distinctive voice and mass, Rufus recognized Uriel as the man shouted at the gatekeeper. Next to Gordon Walker, this man was the most outspoken advocate of war. 'Only the strong survived!' Uriel said often, and loudly. The strong took what they needed. The strong did not compromise. The strong had no need of alliances. The strong stood alone. The strong were feared by lesser clans. On and on and on. Rufus wished the guy would just shut up.

Rufus had thought the big man was just a blowhard. All talk, no action. Until today. Something was definitely up. Rufus just wasn’t sure exactly what. Sam might be able to make sense of this. Maybe not. 

*

"Rest easy." Castiel encouraged as Ellen withdrew the tubing and inserted the plug. With a cool cloth, he wiped the beads of perspiration from Jensen's brow. "You are doing so well, Sweet Boy, so well!" He saw Ellen's satisfied nod. "All done. Just rest. Let your body do the work. Let your body take the nourishment it needs."

Jensen bit back a groan as one of the babies changed position suddenly. He should be accustomed to it by now, he thought. As usual, the enema had quieted the babies - Cas thought it was the warmth of the infusion, Ellen believed it might be because of the added pressure. Jensen did not care why. He was just relieved that while his bowels were bloated, the babies were still. Except the one who liked to clog dance upon his tailbone, that is.

"Is it bad, Jensen? Do you need to change positions? We can help you move if you need to." Ellen assured him. 

"No." Jensen managed to grate out, his jaw clenched as the steady tattoo continued against his coccyx. "Go ahead." Everyday at every feeding, the midwife checked the babies' heartbeats. Why he did not know. He had not been this closely monitored during his previous pregnancies. But he had not been carrying seven previously! If Ellen detected something was wrong, what could she do? He wondered. Jensen recalled one of the horror stories told at the Orphan House, told late at night to newly presented Omegas. The story was of an Omega who could not push out his baby. The midwife had had to slice open his belly, his womb to deliver the baby. Jensen trembled at the thought.

"Are you okay?" Ellen asked from her position. She was no longer counting heart beats but now she was monitoring fetal heart rates. A tricky task. But the enema served to improve the uterine acoustics. A happy discovery that she was maximizing. "The cramping should ease soon." She reminded her patient by way of encouragement. She was anxious to return to her task.

"I'm good." Jensen lied. It was true that once his intestines were saturated, they could no longer spasm. That made retention somewhat easier, but the internal pressure was still great. He felt Ellen reposition the listening device yet again. What was the purpose of her intent examination? Castiel said he had the right to question the Midwife about his and the babies' health. Could he really do that? He had been taught, from birth, it seemed, that the Babymaker must be obedient to the Council and the Midwife. It was not his purpose in the Community to be comfortable but to produce many fine babies. As many as possible in his Sevenyear of service to the Goddess.

Castiel's curiosity had also been aroused by the Midwife's intent behavior. When Ellen finally began to pack away her instruments, Cas seized the opportunity to draw her aside slightly. "Is there a problem?" He whispered in her ear.

Ellen shook her head, a smile brought out the beauty of her features even more. "On the contrary, I have good news. Excellent news!" She returned her attention to her patient. "Would you like to sit up now, Jensen?" Often a change of position was beneficial. Ellen checked her time piece. She was surprised to see that her examination had consumed so much time. It was nearly time he be allowed to void. "Would you like to move to the chair now?"

"Yes. Please!" Jensen voice was laced with both relief and gratitude. He knew what being allowed up from the inclined frame meant. 

Ellen motioned the waiting attendants forward. This was yet another new squad. What a folly the Council had made of the Babymaker's care! Both she and Castiel had to direct the Betaes in how to lift and carry Jensen to the birthing sling. That was the piece of furniture Jensen found most comfortable. It also allowed Ellen easy access to the anal plug when it was time for its removal.

But Ellen did not reach to remove the plug. Instead she pulled over a chair and sat before him. “I have news I must share with you. And you also, Castiel. And there are plans we must make. First and foremost, I am confident we can forego the afternoon colonics from now on. The formula used today is a more concentrated. With the slight increase in volume,” Jensen winced, it hadn’t felt slight to him. “Two of the new are equivalent to three of the old. Of course, you should continue the breastfeeding and the supplemental protein beverages. Although your condition is greatly improved, you are still underweight and weak. It is imperative that you recover as much strength as possible before the delivery."

"I am most pleased to report that the babies- all the babies- are in good condition and good sized. All are well over twelve pounds now. The two here,” Ellen placed her hands high on the mountain that was Jensen’s abdomen, “Are bruisers! They are the largest. Easily topping sixteen pounds. And quite possibly identical twins, I think, sharing the same egg sac, the result of two Alpha sperm fertilizing the same Omega egg.” Jensen broke into a board grin, delighted by her news. “That’s not all, Jensen. I have more to tell you.” Ellen took both his hands in hers. She smiled over in Cas’ direction. “Relax. I promise you it is good news. Excellent news actually!”

“I must confess there is a secret I have kept from you.” Jensen regarded her with confused disbelief but Ellen saw the quick flare of anger in Castiel’s blue eyes. “From you both. The strange motion you have felt, low in your back. That is another baby- an eighth!“

“What? How? Why?” Jensen gasped, trying to process what Ellen had said.

“For how long?” Castiel demanded.

“I have known since the Quickening.” She confessed. “I am sorry I deceived you. The eighth was hard to detect, the heartbeat very faint. In truth, I thought, I feared that that baby would not survive. It happens sometimes. If the fetus perishes before the final trimester, it will be absorbed by its siblings. It would have left no evidence of its existence but my word, my records. When I advised the Council of this, we decided it was more merciful to spare you the worry.” Ellen folded her hands together, imploring them to understand. “You were carrying seven healthy babies, surely you did not need to be burdened with possibilities beyond your own or anyone else’s control.”

“There are eight!” Jensen gasped as a look of wonder brightened his eyes. “And all are healthy, yes?”

“I believe so. You are carrying five boys and three girls. That is why my exam today was prolonged. I counted not only the number of hearts beating but their heart rates to determine the genders. As I said there are the big fellows here. Then a good sized girl, I estimate thirteen pounds at least, behind and to the right.” Ellen swept her hands over each location on Jensen’s vast midsection as she explained. “There is a boy here and another here, with a girl between them. Each weighs in at about fourteen pounds. Then there is our keystone baby,” Ellen’s hand dipped down below the dome, just above the iliac crest. “Another boy, a solid fifteen pounder, if I’ve ever felt one. He will be the first born, forging the way for his siblings. And last but certainly not least, our little mystery, a twelve pound girl, smaller but not overly so. She was so buried beneath her bigger brothers and sisters, I could only detect her clearly when you were inverted on the frame. Then she was free to do a dance of joy upon your tailbone!” Ellen’s grin matched Jensen’s. “Not very comfortable for you but she was happy to stretch her limbs!”

Castiel was scowling, not entirely pleased with the midwife’s deception or explanation. “Why are you telling Jensen this now?”

“Because there are decisions to be made. Gestation is currently 34 weeks. Each of your past pregnancies went the full 40 weeks, nearly to the day. As I have told you all the babies are sufficient size to be delivered successfully at any time now. And each day, you grow stronger. Before the delivery, there are necessary preparations to be made. First and foremost, the vaginal occlusion must be reversed. We can do so today. I recommend leaving the cervix as is until the vagina can be dilated- stretched- sufficiently to accommodate the birthing. The vaginal muscles have no doubt atrophied during the occlusion. A week, perhaps two will be sufficient. Then the cervical sutures can also be removed and labor, safely induced."

Castiel was about to ask Ellen to explain for Jensen's sake. He was pleased when the Babymaker spoke up for himself. "Induced? What is that?"

"There are herbs that will encourage the uterus to contract. If necessary there are tools that will gradually open the cervix." Jensen's brow drew together. "Don't worry it will not hurt. And if there is any discomfort, I have medicine that can ease any pain."

"First you stitch me closed, now you want to pry me open?" Jensen was confused. "And you would drug me so I feel nothing as my babies leave my body. Why would I agree to that?"

"To free you from the burden of this pregancy." Ellen stated what was obvious to her. 

"My babies are not a burden." Jensen's sense of indignation was on the rise. Did the Midwife really understand so little? "Each is a blessing from the Goddess Herself! It would be an insult to the Goddess to force them from my womb before their time."

"Jensen, be reasonable..." Ellen began.

"No!" If the Midwife did not know this about him, she did not understand him at all! And what other secrets did she keep from him? She- and the Council, John had lied to him. That realization hurt. "You said decisions had to be made. This is my decision. My choice. You may reverse the occlusion. I will do the exercises needed to retrain my channel. But my babies will not be taken from me prematurely. They are mine for only a brief time. I will not trade any of our time together to be free of discomfort. The Community will have my final gift to the Goddess soon enough."

Castiel did not know whether to applaud or lament his young friend's defiance. Jensen had grown up.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Castiel sat beside Jensen as Ellen adjusted the stirrups. When Cas had offered to hold his hand, Jensen had politely, formally, rather coldly declined. Instead he asked that Cas bear witness to the Midwife's actions. He expressed concern that she do no more than what she had been given authorization to do. Ellen's mouth had fallen open at that- a direct slap at her ethics, at her very character. She was about to protest when she caught sight of Castiel's small head shake, his scowl that said 'Not now.'

"We can begin as soon as the anesthesia...," Ellen forged ahead, determined to do her job.

"No anesthesia." Jensen interrupted to insist. "I want to know what is done to my body."

"Jensen, be reasonable."

"You said any pain would be minor. Have you lied to me again?"

"No!" Ellen protested, somewhat exasperated. She wanted to swear that she had never deceived him. Then the realization dawned, that in Jensen's eyes, every time she had examined him these past long weeks, she had lied by omission at the very least. And there had been more deception to cover what she felt she should not reveal. Perhaps, Ellen realized much too belatedly, Jensen was right to feel he could not trust her. Perhaps he was justified in feeling betrayed. She had failed in the most vital duty of the Midwife: to earn her patient's trust.

Duly chastised, Ellen clarified, "Any discomfort should be minor. But I will be working in a sensitive area. I would recommend the numbing agent. If not that then it would be better your legs are bound."

Jensen considered her recommendation for a few scant seconds. "You may use the straps." He conceded, still determined to be aware of what transpired.

Ellen made quick work of securing his limbs. She stepped between the splayed legs.

"Stop! Wait!" Jensen commanded. Ellen, and Castiel both felt a moment of relief that the boy had relented. Then Jensen called out to attendants, "Bring mirrors!"

*

It took some scurrying and many small adjustments but Jensen finally saw the even stitches that zigzagged down his pubes. The black silk threads were stark against the rose and cream of his nether lips. Jensen looked his fill. The sight was not gruesome, he decided. But it was certainly not inviting. Then he was shocked to suddenly realize something was missing. "You cut off my clitty!"

"No!" Ellen answered, appalled that he would think she would mutilate him so. "It is merely sealed within." She reached out to gently touch where the sensitive organ was sheathed.. "Let me show you."

Jensen steeled himself. "Proceed."

Again Ellen stepped into the space between his legs. She took a firm hold of his shriveled penis. As was usual with Omegas, the small vestigial organ had actually shrunk with each of his pregnancies and the resulting surge of hormones. It was now a scant two inches long, and about as thick as her smallest finger. It remained limp in her hand, incapable of at this advanced stage of gestation of even the usual semi-soft Omega erection. Would Jensen also blame her for that change?

Apparently not. Jensen made no further comments as he nodded, allowing her to continue the task.

Ellen took up her surgical scissors. She slipped the smooth, curved lower blade beneath the lowest suture. A few minute adjustments to be sure no flesh was between the blades, then steady pressure. Snip. The silk threads parted. Ellen moved on up to the next stitch. Then the next. There were thirty in all closing the outer labia. When all had been cut, she set aside the scissors. Forceps made quick work out of grasping the severed threads. By pulling on the now useless knots she soon removed all traces from the pierced flesh.

"Any discomfort?" The Midwife asked, as she ran her fingertips up then down the silky flesh. The outer lips filled with blood retracting to reveal the inner labia which still sheathed the clitoris. Ellen had used smaller more tightly packed sutures here. There were a total of fifty. Not only were the sutures more numerous, more tightly packed, but the inner lips were composed of a host of nerve endings just below the surface of the thinner, self lubricating skin. She would have to work very carefully in this sensitive area.

Ellen needed both hands now. She laid the tiny Omega cock aside. The shriveled organ had not so much as twitched as she held it, while opening the outer labia. It was common for Omegas to lose erectile function as they matured. Some speculated about the cause. But few worried about Omega impotency. That an Omega was fertile and capable of bearing children was sufficient. That they experienced sexual release differently than Alphas or even Betas was to be expected.

With Jensen's consent, Ellen taped his cock to the underside of his belly, safely out of the away. She adjusted the lighting. She called for a stool so she could be comfortably closer to her task. She checked the bindings upon Jensen's legs. When all her preparations- confess it, at least to yourself- when all her fidgeting was done, she began to again to snip the silk threads. She worked carefully, patiently up the row of stitches. 

And breathed a silent sigh of relief when the last was cut. Again the forceps did their job. Ellen was pleased to see the rosy folds of flesh free of her stitchery. Ever so gently, Ellen drew her finger down the cleft. She expected the eager clitoris to swell with blood and rise, to part the folds. When that did not happen, the Midwife bent closer to exam the area. Her mouth tighten with concern as she saw that the vagina was still occluded, not by artificial means this time but by lesions. She had not anticipated that the natural healing process would form small bridges of scar tissue from the piercings on one side to the other. It would be an easy matter to clear the way. A carefully placed flick or two of her scalpel. If the area were properly anesthesized.

Castiel was equally aware of the Midwife's hesitation and Jensen's mounting impatience. Caught in the middle, he was forced to ask, "is there a problem?"

Having learned the importance of honesty when treating Jensen, Ellen reported her findings without mitigating the facts. "Several lesions have formed. Removal by surgical means will be quick but painful. I can not, in good conscience, do so without anesthesia. It would be unnecessarily cruel." 

Jensen weighed her words. He was no more a fan of pain than deception. He saw the worry clouding Castiel's visage. He knew when it was prudent to concede to reason. 

*

Dick Roman was very pleased himself. He leaned back in his plush chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. Life was good. Very good. His mouth curved into a lopsided grin. And if all went as planned- which, of course, it would- it was about to get even better.

His influence was growing steadily in the Council. Bobby, good old Bobby, was unintentionally help his cause, coming off as the country rube that he had always been. And John Winchester’s leadership was losing its luster. It was only a matter of time before Dick ascended to his rightful place. And when he did, well, then his coffers would overflow.

His minions had served him well. A word here. A bit of sabotage there. Nothing too brazen to attract undue attention. Gossip, rumors had a life of their own. Edgar, in particular, had done his part well, feeding the insecurities among the hotheads in the Dark Wolf Clan. It would only take a spark, a small spark for hostilities to ignite. What would that spark be? 

John could not keep a cap on the mounting tension much longer. Even the silver tongued heir apparent could not negotiate away everything. War was inevitable. And war was good for business. When the fighting broke out, he would reap well earned profits, selling arms and supplies to both sides.

Dick considered himself to be a patient as well as a prudent man. If war was inevitable, why shouldn't a man of vision make a profit?

*

As Ellen dressed the small wounds, she explained the aftercare necessities. Only two had required stitches, bleeding had been minimal. And to everyone's vast relief, the freed clitoris proved to be fully functional. Jensen politely thanked the Midwife for her services. Ellen could tell that she had a lot of work to do in a short time, repairing their ongoing relationship. That saddened her on a personal as well as a professional level.

"Do you go now to report this to the Council?" Jensen indicated his bandaged crotch. He knew she had responsibilities in her position just as he did. When Ellen confirmed that she would, the Babymaker ordered. "Tell the Council President that I would speak him after midday. Now I shall rest."

Castiel saw Ellen to the door. "Warn John that the Babymaker has grown up. He would be wise to remember that he no longer deals with a child. As we all should." He returned to Jensen's side to see to his comfort.

*

Cole found his boss where he had left him. The array of barely touched dishes and drinks at the table’s perimeter testified to Sam’s industry. As did the sheaf of notes in Sam’s cramped hand. The maps Hendricks had shared were now boldly annotated. Sam had been busy indeed.

Cole cast off his dust laden cloak before he dared to approach. Sam would not appreciate it if he fouled his hard work. Cole drew out the opposite chair and plopped his weary body down for some well earned rest. He winced as his saddle sore ass made contact with the chair. Sam, of course, just went on, scribbling his indecipherable notes. Cole gave him a minute, two. He knew the man. He knew how Sam worked.

At last the shaggy head lifted. A quick shake put every strand of hair in order. Sam blinked once, twice. His eyes focused on Cole and narrowed. “What news do you bring?”

”The crops are nearly ripe. Your father expects you home in time for the harvest.”

Sam's fists balled in frustration. His stylus snapped in his grip. The ‘crop report’ told him everything and nothing. It was the code they had agreed upon. He should not expect more. Jensen was nearing delivery, he knew that. He could count, damn it. It did not say how the Babymaker fared. Was Jensen well? Or did he suffered under the burden of this blessing? It did not say if Jensen missed him as he missed Jensen.

Sam rose abruptly. He threw aside the broken tool as he paced the length of the chamber and back. The diplomat that he was, knew this was necessary. The more an opponent knew of you and your personal life, the more likely that information could be used against you. There were mind games that could be played. Or worse, a loved one's safety could be at risk. Sam knew the theories, the rationale. He just didn't like living under such constraints.

Sam ached to be with Jensen. Never had he envisioned being gone so long. If he had known these negotiations would stretch from days to weeks to nigh on two months, he would never have agreed to being the Community's envoy. It was maddening! It was infuriating!

For every issue they resolved, a new area of conflict sprung up. Two steps forward, one step back. At the onset at least, he had felt the talks were making progress. Of late the negotiations had devolved into a neverending series of petty complaints.

Hendricks was as frustrated as Sam. For that reason he had finally proposed that a public referendum decide the matter. It was a risky move, wagering that Sam's earnest and eloquent words could outweigh the Dark Wolf Clan's suspicions and fears. Hendricks knew his people did not trust easily. This was an all or nothing gamble for the future of both Clan and Community.

*

John Winchester approached the Babymaker's residence with an odd mix of hope, foreboding and regret. As Council President, it had been his honor to have a more initimate relationship with the Babymaker than his compatriots. It was a function of his office as well as the fact that he had been the Alpha to first seed the virgin Omega. That was a relationship that was hard to deny. Or forget.

To further complicate the present state of affairs, John was also Sam's father. Sam was not only Jensen's preferred lover and intended life mate but the Council's diplomatic envoy. After five years of service, Sam had a proven record of successful treaty negotiations with neighboring villages and clans. The Community's prosperity, at least in John's mind, had as much to do with Sam's facile tongue as Jensen's fertile womb. Or more likely the two worked jointly to the benefit of all. To suggest otherwise would surely be blasphemy.

John had always enjoyed his previous dealings with Jensen. When first selected as the Babymaker, the boy had been quite young and quite beautiful. It had been no hardship to be the Alpha to take his virginity. The boy, well into his first full Omega heat, had been biddable and eager. John had made an extra effort to be gentle as he penetrated the unplowed channel. He had battled back Alpha instincts, maintaining control, stretching the newly opened vagina, patiently waiting until the boy was ready before allowing his knot to swell. Their first Breeding, as well as each subsequent one, was memorable to the participants as well as the observers.

Nearly seven years had passed. Of course, Jensen was no longer a child. He was the Babymaker. His body had matured and changed. It was only natural that his mind and spirit should as well.

With a fond smile, John recalled the first time he had met Jensen. The boy had been a precocious toddler. John then was the Council's envoy, with Bobby serving as his Aide. He struggled to balance his duties to the Community with his duty to his grieving five year old son. His mission at the time required travel. To take Sam with him would have been a liability as well as a danger to the boy. Karen newly delivered of her fourth, was too occupied with her own rambunctious household to add a half orphan prone to nightly terrors. John was torn by his opposing responsibilities until the Council President offered the services of the Orphan House as a stopgap solution. Called to serve his Community, it was an offer John could not refuse. Yet throughout his ten day absence, John worried about Sam. Did his boy feel abandoned by his father? Was he eating? Sleeping? And most troubling, how would either of them survive without their beloved wife and mother, Mary?

When at last, the mission ended, John had ridden through the night to return for Sam. Once he arrived at the Orphan House, the Head CareGiver had assured him that there was no reason for his concern. She led him through the predawn quiet of the sleeping house to one dormitory. There, in one of the cots, lay Sam peacefully sleeping. And in his arms, was curled a blond cherub. John's heart swelled at the sight. It swelled even more when big green eyes blinked open. A chubby fist rose to scrub the sleep away. The child smiled up at John, completely unafraid. He lifted a finger to his lips and lisped, "Sssh, Ssammy ssleeping." John nodded, brushed a curl from boy's cheek and tucked the bedding tighter around their intwined bodies before withdrawing. 

John would have adopted the little boy at once, anything to comfort Sam. However the CareGiver said that was not possible. The little one was an Omega, but more particularly, a rare triple 'O'. Jensen could, the CareGiver whispered, one day be the chosen one. John discounted the woman's words without a second thought. The little one was comely enough but he was barely out of diapers. It was impossible to foresee a child's future at such a young age.

John chose to neither encourage or discourage Sam and Jensen's friendship. Sometimes when John had to travel, Sam stayed with the Singer's. When that was not feasible, Sam was welcome at the Orphan House. But more and more as the boys grew, the two were found in each other’s company. As Sam grew taller, boarder in the chest and shoulders, more angular in his features, Jensen remained smaller, rounder, softer and more fluid in his movements as well as his personality. Jensen naturally deferred to Sam.

It was a surprise to no one in the Community when thirteen year old Sam's voice dropped an octave over night. The young teen began to bulk up, quickly adding more height as well as muscles to his maturing body. Sam Winchester was most definitely an Alpha. In the coming year or two, he would experience the hormonal overload known as rut. Then as was the tradition of the Community, he would be an adult, eligible to claim a mate and begin a family.

In retrospect, John knew he should have expected that Sam's coming of age would trigger Jensen's own precocious development. At the time, he had other matters to occupy his time. Leonardo was stepping down as Council President. To John's amazement, he found himself selected to be the replacement. Jo, the current Babymaker, had just delivered triplets in her sixth pregnancy. It would be John's responsibility to lead off the next Breeding ceremony. He would also represent the Winchester Clan. A double knotting was not an easy feat for any but the most virile of Alphas.

Transitions were never easy, John reflected. His new position had had plenty of challenges. Add a horny, hormonal son, whose intended turned out to actually be The prime candidate for Babymaker— well, John was convinced" beyond all doubt, that the Goddess had a sense of humor. Either that or She had cursed the Winchester Clan regarding mates and happiness. John had been prepared to give both the young people a lecture about duty, tradition and the good of the Community versus personal needs. To his amazement, Sam and Jensen had made his speech unnecessary. Jensen would serve the Goddess as Babymaker. Sam would wait the Sevenyear for his Omega. John had never been prouder of his son and his intended.

*

“Thank you for coming, Mr. President.” 

John bowed his head, his expression carefully neutral. Ellen had warned him. He would not be dealing with the eager to please youth that had greeted him in the past. "The honor is mine. How may I be of service?"

“Several matters require attention. First and foremost, I am aware that I have been lax in my duties to the Community. The Babymaker must go among the people, be seen so all may know the Goddess has blessed us with Her bounty. I would be honored if you would be my escort. Have my carriage prepared for midday tomorrow."

"Is that wise?" The question was off his tongue before John had time to think. The tightening of Castiel's mouth confirmed his error.

The green eyes narrowed, the full mouth hardened. "So you too think I am incapable of caring for my own wellbeing! Or it only the babes within that you and the Council are concerned about?" Jensen's voice was heating with indignation. "Have I not proved in the past six- no, nearly seven years that I am the Babymaker! You treat me a as child! Or a pawn!" The impassioned words brought color to Jensen's cheeks but drained him of what little energy his body could spare. He sunk further into the cushions supporting his oversized body. His eyes closed, then opened to spear John. "I thought you, you of all the Community, cared for me." He accused, his lower lip trembling.

"Jensen! I most certainly do care for you. It is for your comfort and health that I hesitate. Sam would never forgive-"

"Do not speak of Sam!" The green eyes flashed. All color drained from the Omega's drawn face. "Sam is gone. I do not even know if he is alive or--" A tear rolled down as he drew a shuddering breath. "I think he must be dead. That is the secret you all hide from me. No one will tell me where he is." The brimming eyes closed in exhaustion. "Sam would be here if he lived- He loved me."

John stepped forward to grasp his hand. “Sam lives! I swear to you- he is alive and well. He is not with you because his duty calls him elsewhere. I can not tell you the details, the Council is sworn to secrecy. But know this: The negotiations are vital to the Community’s future. You must believe me that nothing less would keep Sam from your side now or ever.“

Big, damp eyes centered on John’s face. “You would not lie?” Jensen wanted to believe, was afraid to believe. “He would write if he were alive. He has answered none of my letters.”

“He can not.” John admitted. “The Council decreed that the envoy convey no personal information in his dispatches. There is always a risk that such could be intercepted and used against him by the opposition. Your letters-“ John hesitated. “I have your letters. They were never forwarded to Sam. The Council felt they would be a distraction as well as a liability to Sam’s duties.”

That renewed the onslaught of tears. "I- I am a liability!" Jensen choked out between sobs.

John threw a desperate look toward Castiel. He was a hunter, a man of action and danger. He was a diplomat, a man of words and reason. He knew not how to deal with tears.

Castiel saw the panic in the dark eyes. Alphas! They could be so exasperating at times! All do and dare without regard for feelings. He would have a word or two with the Council about this fiasco! And more than a few words with Gabriel. How dare they treat the Babymaker this way! His indignation flared as he moved to comfort Jensen. Castiel eased closer, gathering the distraught Omega into his arms as best he could. He batted aside John's hand, from its grip of Jensen's. The insensitive dolt! Surely, he must know that pregnant Omegas were prone to intense emotions. He knew, he had to know the depth of love Jensen and Sam shared. He was not only Sam's father but the Counicil President and he had allowed-- No, he had ordered the pair to be separated at this crucial time! The idiot. All of them were idiots!

"Hush, Sweetin'. Calm yourself. Shh, don't cry. John did not mean to fault you. The Council did not intend to hurt you. Listen to me. This was a precaution meant to aid Sam. To keep him safe and speed his work." It galled Cas to once more have to pacify Jensen. For weeks, in fact nearly a moon's cycle, he had been forced to fabricate excuses for Sam's absence and silence. He too, he realized belatedly, was guilty of lying to the young Omega. It had been done out of love, out of concern for his well being but, for Jensen, the underlying reason might not outweigh the deception.

*

Castiel had overseen Jensen being settled for a much needed rest. The young Omega was still weak from his illness and the strain of this extraordinary pregnancy. Added emotional stress drained his meager resources. John chose to linger, concerned on the personal as well the professional level. 

“He sleeps. It is the best medicine for him. Aside from Sam’s return.” Castiel stared down the Council head. “If you have any love for that boy in your pea sized heart, you will recall Sam at once. He is needed here.”

John sighed in defeat. He knew Castiel was right. He knew that Sam wanted nothing more than to be at Jensen’s side now and always. But that could not be. The wellbeing of the Community had to take precedent over all. War endangered all. His power could not control all. 

“I hope that his return is eminent. However his task is not yet complete." John waved off Castiel’s objections. “I am responsible for the good of all. You have accepted the responsibility for the Babymaker. This proposed tour tomorrow, surely he is not strong enough for such an endeavor. You must dissuade him of such folly. The people-“

“The people, his people, and the babies he gifts to them are all that keep him going at present. He needs their love. I will not deny him that. You may see it as unnecessary, perhaps even foolhardy but I will not deny him what he needs. Not now when I, when we all have failed him in so many ways.” He tried to appease John’s mounting frustration. “I will take what precautions are feasible. Jensen is depressed but not reckless. He will listen to reason. With Ellen’s assistance, we will see him through his Sevenyear.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not getting much feedback via your comments or kudos. Don't want to be a praise slut (although I probably am), but if you like a writer's work, please let them know. There is nothing more deadly to creatve inspiration than apathy.


	3. Chapter 3

The cheers rose as the gate opened. A fanfare sounded. The crowd surged forward, eager to catch sight of their beloved Babymaker. Bobby dressed in his finest, (not one of those god-awful codpiece riggings, no thank you, Mrs. Tran, not for his likes), was to lead off the procession. His mount was a favorite, spirited but well trained. The carriage team that he had personally selected, was docile, trained to pull at an even, gentle pace. His kids had washed and brushed each horse’s coat until it gleamed. Karen, herself, had braided talismans of fertility and ribbons into the manes and tails to add to the pageantry.

Bobby glanced back at the carriage. Jensen, suitably robed and displayed seemed comfortable enough. In fact he seemed to be far healthier and happier than Bobby would have anticipated. Maybe it was the artfully applied makeup or the carefully styled robe, for whatever the reason, the Babymaker seemed to glow as he waited to go out among his people.

The cynic in Bobby knew much of the Babymaker’s appearance was artful staging. The makeup covered Jensen's pallor. The robe hid limbs thin and atrophied, while it flaunted the fullness of his breasts and the mammoth swell of his belly.

Bobby, too, had done his part in engineering this crowd pleasing illusion. When John had returned to the Council Chambers, he had confided his concerns to his old pal. Bobby chose not to fret and stew, instead he took the practical approach. If mobility and safety were a concern for the Babymaker, it was his responsibility to resolve the issue. It was not proper that the Babymaker be hauled around like an oversized sack of grain. Bobby requisitioned the plushest, most oversized chair in the Babymaker's house. With the addition of wheels, hidden beneath a decorative flounce and some subtle bracing, Jensen could be moved with more decorum and comfort. Next Bobby had turned his skills to the Babymaker's carriage. He worked into the night, aided by his eldest, to adapt the conveyance. The changes were subtle- one tried not to destroy an antique- but they had to be practical, too. The rear panel could now be detached. Ramps slid out from beneath the floor. The moveable chair could be bolted securely in place. Jensen's obvious pleasure as he was wheeled onto the carriage was all the reward Bobby would ever require.

Bobby looked to John, mounted on his own stallion, waiting on the far side of the team. A small nod signaled him to be off. The slightest pressure from his knees, set his gelding off in a stylized prance. The gait was for show, hardly making any forward progress but it looked damn pretty. The lead in his grip went taut. The team that followed took up the pace. The procession moved stately forward.

As the carriage emerged through the gate the fanfare sounded again, longer, louder. The horses kept their steady pace. The cheers of the crowd swelled. Blossoms, thrown by the onlookers, rained down upon the Babymaker. A young woman, herself heavy with child, stepped forward. She reached up to offer Jensen a bouquet. Jensen had to strain to accept the offering but he managed. John breathed a silent sigh of relief that the Babymaker did not topple from his seat. The straps, beneath the robe, held him securely. The young woman beamed up at the Babymaker, caressing the swell of her belly. Jensen, smiled down upon her, sweeping his hand across the small portion of his oversized abdomen that he could reach. The crowd went wild. The Goddess had truly blessed them all!

*

The crowd was somber, tense with anticipation. Sam took these final moments to study those gathered. During his time here, he had come to know several individuals. He had made a few friends. There, at the far edge was the tanner, Joshua, with his wife and four sons. The family worked hard, produced first quality pelts. Their work would be in demand if trade could be established with the Community. And there, near the stage, was Patience, the young lass that often brought him his meals. Beside her was an older women, her esteemed grandmother, no doubt. The woman had a way with herbs and spices that turned an ordinary meal into something special. Nomadic life must be hard on a woman of her years.

A disturbance in the crowd drew Sam's attention. Sam recognized the cause. Uriel, that mountain of discontent, moved through the gathered like a plow through the spring soil. Positioned front and center of the stage, Sam had no doubt that he had come to not listen but to disrupt wherever possible. Another disturbance. Gordon, the leader of the firebrands, pushed his way forward. He took a position to the left of the stage. Not together, Sam noted, why did he not join his fellow dissident? Simply to spread more ill will among the crowd? Or was there more planned? Sam scanned the crowd for Rufus. He would welcome a friendly face in the audience.

"Are you ready, my friend?" Hendricks asked, clapping him on the shoulder. He truly felt the Community's envoy had become his friend over these prolonged negotiations.

"As ready as I will ever be." Sam offered a hopeful smile before they stepped out onto the stage.

*

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance to the Babymaker’s residence. The outer gate swung closed, shutting out the celebrating populace. Those within paused. They needed a moment to recover from the general euphoria of the Community. John broke the tableau when he dismounted. Bobby followed suit. Castiel and Ellen were quick to make their way to the carriage as well.

“Jensen, are you in pain?” Ellen asked. "Any contractions?" She scrambled up into the carriage, heedless of the flowers banked around the Babymaker. She needed to to assess his condition. That morning, she had taken the precaution, with Jensen’s consent, of course, to remove the cervical sutures. If the motion of the carriage ride had triggered labor’s onset, she did not want to impede dilation and delivery.

“I am fine.” Jensen answered breathlessly. He was smiling beatifically, drunk on the love of his people. His head lolled on the chair’s support. Ellen’s trained eye could see the blue tinge to his lips beneath the artifice. His breathing was shallow. His pulse slow and faint. It was imperative that they shift his position, to make it easier for him to breathe.

“You need to rest.” Ellen insisted. “Help me move him inside.”

Bobby worked the mechanics smoothly. The chair could recline. That helped a little but was not enough to relieve the pressure on his diaphragm or internal organs. Jensen’s eyelids drifted downward, perhaps from simple fatigue. But Ellen thought it was more likely asphyxia. “Stay with us Jensen. We’re almost there. Soon you can rest.”

*

”The Community has no desire to alter your way of life. There is enough land for all. There is enough game to sustain both populations. The neutral corridors proposed will allow your people to hunt, to move as you always have. We have no plans to subjugate the Dark Wolf Clan in any way.”

”So you say,” shouted Gordon, “Until your people out grow the valley lands. Then where do you settle? Whose lands do you steal? Your Community grows steadily larger, you can be nothing more than a threat.” There was a murmur of agreement from a sizable portion of those gathered.

Sam feared he was losing their ears. “The Community has grown through trade, not conquest. Our population welcomes outsiders to come to our markets. The game you hunt, the pelts you preserve, the seasonings you blend and much more would all be marketable goods."

"Goods the greedy from the Community will steal from us for pennies. Only to sell back to us for dollars. Lots of dollars! Your 'good' merchants will rob us blind!"

"My people trade fairly." Sam insisted. He and Victor had outlined the treaty they had negotiated. It was a deal that would benefit both parties if-- if the Dark Wolf Clan approved it by referendum. Sam had the authority to speak for the Council. He prayed that he had the eloquence to convince the Clan doubters. "I see the hardship that constant journeying puts on your elders, your very young. If they choose they would be welcome into the safety of the Community, perhaps as your agents in commerce.”

”You claim you will not change our lifestyle!" Uriel boomed his dissent. "Yet in your next breath, you want to steal our elders- the wisdom of the Clan! And our young- the future of the Clan! Every word you utter is a lie!”

“It is not a lie. I offer a choice. A simple choice.”

”I declare: you are a liar! I call for the Challenge! If you speak the truth, prove it now on the field of battle!”

*

“Ease him down here.” Ellen directed. “Let the framework take his weight. That’s right. Good.” She bent down to wave a capsule of smelling salts under Jensen’s nose. That served to revive him somewhat. “Breathe Jensen, breathe. Good. Just relax. We will take care of you.”

They were all relieved to see the bony rib cage expand as Jensen drew in air. The restored flow of oxygen brought color to his features, awareness to his mind. "It's over? I did well?"

"You were wonderful!" Castiel assured him while Ellen checked his and the babies vitals. "The Goddess Herself was pleased! Here sip this. You must be parched. The sun was very warm."

Jensen obediently took a sip. The drink was cool and refreshing. He took two more. "Felt good."

"Later you can relax in the deep pool." Cas promised, knowing it was one of the few places that provided a degree of comfort for the Babymaker at this advanced stage. "Drink."

Jensen nodded, drifting in their kind care. "The people, they were pleased?"

Castiel cast a concerned look toward Ellen. He had remained behind, awaiting their return. It would not be fitting for a former Babymaker to impinge upon the current embodiment of the Goddess' reign. Castiel had heard the crowd's celebration clearly even when distant. Had Jensen been unaware of the Community's adulation? Had he lost consciousness during the procession?

John stepped forward. "The people cheered til they were hoarse! And then cheered some more! They showered their Babymaker with flowers. I doubt there is a single blossom unpicked in our valley! Your carriage was nearly buried in blooms." He laid a gentle hand on the limp golden head. "You are loved by your people." He bent to brush a kiss on the crown of Jensen's head. "And by me."

*

“No! There will be no Challenge! I forbid it!” Hendricks stepped to the front of the stage, blocking Uriel’s access to Sam.

“The Challenge is my right. You can not forbid it.”

“Sam is here under my protection. If you demand a Challenge, I am the one you will fight!”

“The Community’s envoy must hide behind your shield.” Uriel sneered. “He is a coward as well as a liar!” That accusation brought a rumble of agreement from the onlookers.

“I am neither.” Sam retorted as he stepped up, to stand beside Victor. “I need no man to protect me. If a battle is needed to prove my word, I will fight!”

“Sam,“ Hendricks turned and braced both hands against Sam’s shoulders, forcing him back two steps. His voice was low and tense. “This is not wise. You came as a man of peace. I swore your safe passage. Think, my friend. Uriel is a proven warrior. He outweighs you by 50 pounds, if not more. He will show you no mercy. If you are injured- or worse- where does that leave the alliance between our people?”

*

It took great restraint not to curse the revellers all around him. The Community was drunk with happiness at the sight of their beloved Babymaker. Dick watched as bottles were shared. No doubt the masses would be drunk on more before the day’s end. The fools! The superstitious fools, believing in lore and circumstantial claptrap. Dick Roman considered himself a practical, pragmatic man. He made his own success. He didn't count of the Goddess' favors. 

Unfortunately, he had to live among these imbeciles. He had been convinced that one glimpse of the grotesqueness that was supposed to be the embodiment of the Goddess, would have wised up at least some of these yokels. But such was not to be. Dick saw no sign that the common folk were the least bit disillusioned. If the fools wouldn’t come to their senses on their own, Dick decided, he’ d have to take more direct actions. It was best to always have a backup plan. Damn it, where was Edgar when he needed him!

A stray cat wandered across his path. With no better way to express his frustrations, Dick aimed a kick at the unfortunate animal. The cat’s sense of self preservation launched it into a vertical leap out of danger. Momentum carried through. Dick found himself off balance. He stumbled into the street as he tried to right himself. A ragtag pack of children streamed past him, nearly knocking him down. Dick cursed the urchins. They should show proper respect to their elders. He was a Council member, after all. The little bastards wouldn’t dare show John Winchester such disrespect!

With a harrumph of disgust, Dick straightened his wardrobe. Titters of laughter sounded from all sides. Dick cast dark looks at the bystanders. He tugged his tunic more firmly in place. He pivoted and stepped directly into a pile of fresh horse manure. The laughter grew as did his anger.

*

"Sam, please, I'm begging you. Don't do this." Cole pleaded. "What will I tell the Council if you are killed? What will I tell your father?" Desperate, he tried the ultimate argument. "And what of Jensen?"

Sam's features hardened as continued to draw his blade across the whetstone. "I do what I must for the good of the Community. Father will understand. And you, my friend, must be there Jensen, if I can not."

Cole shook his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can not replace you in the Community nor in Jensen's heart.

* 

Ellen tiptoed from the bed chamber. In the lounge area, Castiel was busy laying out a selection of food. It was late in the day. Normally she would be returning to her own home for an evening meal with Jo and then some well earned sleep. Ellen considered her options as she joined the former Babymaker/Keeper. 

"How is he?" Castiel asked at once.

"He sleeps comfortably. Or at least as comfortably as is possible."

Castiel frowned at her words. "He should be in bed. Surely there he would be more comfortable than the frame or the chair. He needs all the rest he can get."

Ellen had ordered that the attendants alternate Jensen's position between the colonic frame and the birthing chair. An hour in each before he was shifted to a new position. Cas had not challenged her then but he sought clarification now.

"The framework is adequately padded for comfort. It relieves his internal organs from some of the pressure caused by the weight of the babies. It allows him to breathe more easily. And I hope it will also allow the babies to shift their positions somewhat. The chair encourages gravity to work against the cervix. I hope that will aid Jensen's body in readying for delivery."

Castiel heard the tension in her voice. "You are concerned about the delivery?"

"Aren't you?" Ellen waved off his response. "There are eight babies tightly packed. So tightly packed that they can hardly move. Our keystone baby, a fine big boy, currently is positioned butt snugged up tight to the cervix. If he does not turn- if he can not turn- he will be a breach delivery." Castiel cringed at the thought. Ellen drew a shaky breath. "Or worse- I will be required to deliver the babies surgically." 

That drew a gasp of utter horror from the former Babymaker. "Jensen will never agree to that!"

"He may have no choice!" Ellen shot back heatedly. "It may be the only way to save his life and the babies."

That possibility left Castiel with no argument. A surgical delivery for an Omega had life altering implications. Any future pregnancy would be high risk. Multiple births, the Omega norm, would greatly increase the chance of uterine rupture thus endangering the life of the Omega as well as the babies.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Castiel asked, meekly, properly chastised by the gravity of the situation. He paused, trying to recall some distant information. “Perhaps I should consult the Babymakers journals. I seem to remember there are some massage techniques recommended for shifting a breach delivery.”

“I welcome any assistance you can offer.” Ellen responded sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind I intend to grab a quick meal then hightail it home. All the supplies and equipment necessary for the worst case scenario must be at hand. In case such is needed, time will be of the essence.”

*

They circled each other in the area roped off for the Challenge. An eager audience surrounded the ring. Both Alphas had stripped down to bare chests, leaving only leggings for modesty’s sake. Light bounced off chorded muscles. Sweat highlighted their powerful builds. Uriel, feinted to the right, then lunged to left, his dagger on a direct path to Sam’s midsection.

Sam spun away. For a big man, Uriel moved fast. Sam had to keep his guard up, while looking for an opening. His strategy was simple: disarm the opponent, pin him, demand surrender. Simple yet not easily achieved. He had no desire to kill the man. Aside from his obstinacy, Hendricks had described Uriel as a productive member of the Dark Wolf Clan. He was also reported to be one of their most reliable defenders. His death would be a severe loss to the Clan. Yet for the success of his mission, Sam had to defeat the man. The Clan operated under a primitive law: might equals right. Sam didn't agree to that principle but these people did. And therefore, Sam would adhere to it. 

Uriel drove forward again, thrusting with his blade. Sam dodged, countering with a solid blow to his opponent’s gut. Shit, it felt like he had rammed his fist into a rock wall. The man was solid muscle!

*

"Oh, don't be such a crybaby!" Dick Roman sneered. "Since when have you put morals ahead of money?"

"It just doesn’t seem right." Edgar grumbled, unhappy with this assignment from the boss.

"It will feel just fine when your pockets are full!" Dick snapped back, callously, "I don’t pay you to think. Just do as you're told! And don't leave a trail to my door."

Edgar slunk off, eyes downcast, with his tail, figuratively, tucked between his legs. Roman watched his retreat. It was frustrating having to deal with such small minds. Infuriating, really. At least Omegas and Betas, for the most part, knew their place and obeyed orders. It was the damned subordinate Alphas who were always chafing at their lot if life, trying to usurp their betters and take over, that were a headache. He would have to keep an eye of Edgar. An underling with a conscience could be dangerous.

*

Jensen, sighed with pleasure as the attendants eased his body into the deep pool. The water's warmth felt wonderful. Castiel slipped a float pillow beneath his head. That kept his nose and mouth out of the water, even though he was still in the face down position. It felt so good to let the water support his body. The warmth was relaxing. He felt almost weightless. Almost. A couple of sharp kicks to his ribs and kidneys served to remind him of the precious cargo he bore. As if he could ever forget, he thought, chuckling to himself, as he drifted.

"What's so funny?" Castiel, ever watchful, asked from his perch at the pool's edge.

"Nothing. Babies are kicking, that's all. Maybe they're trying to swim?" Jensen suggested with a smile. He remembered the glee Loki and his brothers had had, playing in the shallow pool. Their nannies hadn't accomplished much bathing but the toddlers had certainly enjoyed their bath time. Jensen's smile faded. He was going to miss the triplets and their antics. In anticipation of his eminent delivery, Castiel had sent his youngest brood, with their nannies, back home to the estate he shared with Gabriel. 

Jensen stroked his distended belly lovingly. All things must end, he thought sadly. Soon he would deliver these babies as his final service to the Goddess. Soon after, these babies would be weaned. Then his Sevenyear would end. Soon he would no longer be the Babymaker. Another would be chosen. Soon...What then? Once, he had thought he knew. He had looked forward to his life with Sam. Now, with Sam's prolonged absence, he wasn't at all sure of his future.

"May I join you?" Castiel asked, breaking into his reverie. With Jensen's consent, the older Omega slipped into the pool. Castiel positioned himself in Jensen's line of sight. He reached over to sweep back the hair encroaching on those enchanting eyes. "You are very pensive." Castiel observed. "What troubles you, my friend?"

"Nothing." Jensen lied, trying to avoid Cas' discerning eyes. But his thoughts weighed heavy on his mind. "Everything." He confessed.

Cas kept quiet, allowing Jensen to continue at his own pace. "Is it-- you know-- hard after," The boy lifted a hand out of the pool to gesture vaguely around the courtyard. "After all this?"

"You are worried about your future?" Castiel surmised.

Jensen nodded against the pillow, sending small waves rippling around their bodies. He closed his eyes to hide the tears that threatened. Soon he would be alone again. The new Babymaker would be chosen. This house would no longer be reserved for his use. Where would he go? He had no other home. He was too old to return to the Orphan House. Once he had been certain that his future was with Sam. A tear slipped from beneath his lashes. But now, despite John's reassurances, Jensen did not know whom he could rely on.

Cas recalled his own troubling days after his service as the Babymaker had ended. It was not an easy transition to make- to go from being the epicenter of the Community, loved and catered to by all, to being ordinary, used and replaced-- was a harsh reality. He had thought that Sam's love would cushion the blow for Jensen. Apparently, that not was not to be the case.

"After you have delivered," Castiel began. "After the babies are weaned." He saw more tears track down that pale cheek. "You will retire to a cottage, not so far from here. It is very comfortable. Quiet and private. You may have a servant, or two, of your choice. The Community will provide for your care while you recover." Jensen's eyes flashed open, fearful, questioning that statement. "After a Sevenyear, seven successive pregnancies, your body will require time to recover. As will your mind. Can you," Castiel probed gently, "Can you remember what it is like to NOT be pregnant?" He ran his hand down Jensen's spine. "To be alone in this body? To have its use for your own? Your own pleasure?"

"What--" Jensen caught his lower lip between his teeth to still it's quivering. But the question had to be voiced. "What if I don't want to be alone?"

Castiel smiled at him, love warming his ice blue eyes. "You will have many suitors. Sam, at the forefront. Maybe even the debonair Dick Roman!" Jensen rolled his eyes in disbelief. He had always found the newest Council member to be just a bit creepy, almost reptilian. He shook his head slightly, denying that possibility. "You think not? I've seen him looking at you!" Castiel persisted. "And you may take as many lovers as you choose. Then if and when you are ready, you may choose one to be your lifemate. It is a great honor to be the chosen of a former Babymaker. If you don't believe me, just ask Gabe!" They both laughed at that. "I know that it is difficult for you. Especially now." His soothing touch dipped beneath the water to massage the baby-filled abdomen. "It feels like your whole world is coming to an end. But in truth it is only a new beginning." Castiel bent to kiss Jensen's cheek. "I promise you, you will find it to be the beginning of a glorious life."

*

The combatants circled, each looking for any weakness in the other. Both were gasping for breath. Both were slick with sweat and rivulets of blood. Uriel's left eye was swollen shut. Sam had a slash, the evidence of a barely dodged swipe from Uriel's dagger, across his upper thighs. Both had multiple other small wounds and many bruises. Their stamina was flagging. Yet the onlookers' blood lust had not been sated.

Uriel lunged forward, leading, as always, with his blade. His attack was slowed a second or two by fatigue. Sam sidestepped and seized the outstretched arm. A quick yank served to over balance the big man. Uriel stumbled. Sam cracked the fisted blade arm against his thigh. Once, twice, three times. The dagger fell from Uriel's grip. A quick pivot, Sam wrenched Uriel's sword arm up behind his back as he brought his own blade up, point poised at the throbbing carotid artery of his opponent. 

"Yield!" Sam demanded. "Don’t make me do this! I don’t want to kill you!"

"Do it!" Uriel gasped. "Honor demands blood."

"No!" Sam released his hold, pushing Uriel clear of his weapon. "I do not kill without good reason." He stepped away and bent to retrieve Uriel's blade. 

Out of the crowd, Gordon emerged, shouting. "I have reason!" His arm came down, his dagger aimed at Sam's back.

*

"Are you in any pain?" Castiel asked as he pressed systematically against Jensen's belly. They were still in the buoyant waters of the deep pool. Castiel had pinned Jensen against the side wall to facilitate the vigorously massage recommended by the Babymaker's journals.

"No pain." Jensen answered through gritted teeth. "But I do not think they like being pushed around. Oh! Oh!" Both felt the mountain of babies shift suddenly beneath Castiel's hands. Jensen held his breath. Never in any of his previous pregnancies had he experienced such an internal upheaval. For a few terrifying moments, it felt like the babies would burst out, ripping right through his flesh. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the uterine movement stopped. Jensen drew a shaky breath, relieved to feel the pressure, internal as well as external ease.

Castiel nodded to himself, pleased with his efforts. Beneath his hand, he could still feel the rapid pulsing of a fetal heartbeat, there, and there and there. He had not the skill or the instruments to evaluate the condition of all eight babies. Ellen would, no doubt, do that when she returned. He offered up a silent prayer to the Goddess for the babies' as well as Jensen's wellbeing. "How about we get dried off?" He suggested cheerfully. "I, for one, am turning into a prune." 

With Jensen's nod of consent, Castiel summoned the waiting attendants to lift the Babymaker from the pool. As Jensen emerged from the water, Castiel could see that the shape of the distended abdomen was definitely altered. The formerly round, wide belly was now more conical, perhaps almost vertical- Castiel did not have the words to describe the change but he hoped it boded well for his young friend. He hoped his efforts would ease Ellen's concerns.

The attendants were busy swaddling Jensen in drying linens. Cas had also emerged to towel off. He had begun to dress when a disturbance sounded at the outer gate. The Midwife returning, he hoped, perhaps in need of assistance with her gear. Castiel dispatched two of the attendants to see to the matter. The remaining attendants were working to settle Jensen comfortably in the the birthing chair when one returned on the run.

"There is a messenger at the gate. It is an emergency.." He reported, breathlessly, to Castiel. "Loki is missing. Your husband asks that you come immediately."

Castiel's mind went blank. "Missing? How? Why?" He tried to think. The child was mischievous, yes, but he could barely walk. How could he be gone? Where? Taken? If so, by who? And why?

Castiel looked to Jensen. He saw fear and confusion to match his own. "I- I must-." He should go. He had to go search for his son. He locked eyes with Jensen. Responsibilities, love battled with reason. His shoulders slumped. "I can not leave you."

"What?" Jensen struggled to understand. "You have to! Loki needs you! You have to find him."

"My place is here. My duty to you, to the Community-"

"Forget that! You have a duty to your son!" Jensen shot back. "Go. Ellen will return soon. I'm fine. Your family needs you. Go!"

Love trumped responsibility. Castiel went to search for his son.

*

“Sam!" Cole shouted. "Behind you!"

The warning came too late to stop the attack. Sam started to turn. The blade descended to lodge in his left scapula. Although without Cole's warning, it might have severed his spine. Gordon's weight bore him down. They grappled on the ground as the crowd closed in, angry and vocal. Wounded, out of position, Sam could do little to defend himself. Gordon wrenched the dagger from his shoulder. Pinned, Sam prepared himself for the killing blow.

Then as suddenly as the other man had jumped him, Gordon's weight lifted. The shouting grew. Angry voices, above and all around him. Sam battled to stay conscious, to grasp what was happening. His very life depended upon it. Emerging from the chaos, Cole was there, crouching at his side. Good, that was good. He needed his friend now more than ever. And Victor! Victor was nearby, speaking with authority. The words, Victor's, Cole's, jumbled in Sam’s mind as darkness closed in.

*

Alone. It was a novel experience to be alone, Jensen realized. One of the babies moved within his womb. Okay, not quite alone. Jensen shifted in response and caught sight of one of the eager, ever present attendants. Never really alone. But for the moment, this rare moment, he would enjoy his relative solitude. It had been many weeks since he had not had Ellen or Cas supervising his daily routine. They were dedicated. They were good friends as well as highly qualified helpers. He was fortunate to have them overseeing his care. He knew that. Experiencing a twinge of guilt, Jensen thought that the Goddess would be displeased that he did not appreciate Her Blessings.

However there were also advantages to being alone. There was no one to prod his belly. Or fill his bowels. Or... Share their children. He missed Castiel's triplets. He hoped Loki was alright. The sweet little imp had to be! Perhaps he had just crawled into some hidey hole and fallen asleep. He was prone to going all out until exhaustion claimed him. Then he either fell asleep in his tracks or exploded into a noisy tantrum of frustrated needs. Please, Goddess, keep Loki safe.

Jensen's thoughts drifted to his own frustrations and needs. He tried to picture his life six months from now. A new Babymaker would be selected by then, might even have been impregnated depending on how soon he or she ripened into heat. And he would be retired to obscurity. A private person. His body would be his own. That was a novel idea!

Lovers. Cas had said he could take as many lovers as he wished. That was a possibility he had never considered. He had never wanted any Alpha but Sam. Would he want to experiment with others? He had been a virgin when he became the Babymaker. John Winchester had been the first Alpha to inseminate him. John had been gentle and considerate then and in each of their subsequent matings. From the Breedings, Jensen knew well that each Alpha had his own style when it came to the act of procreation. Would lovemaking be different? Sam's knottings had always been very satisfying, a level unique among the multitude. Why was that? Was it because Sam cared about him as an individual rather than as a representation of the Goddess? Or because he loved Sam? But if Sam no longer wanted him, could he find another who would be a satisfactory lover? Did he even want to try?

There was a clamor again in the outer courtyard. Jensen paid it little attention. No doubt, it was just Ellen returning. She would be in soon enough to fuss over him, he sighed, to give him his evening colonic feeding. There would be definite advantages to life as a private citizen, he concluded. 

The volume of noise rose abruptly. Several cut off screams sparked Jensen's concern. What was happening? Surely Ellen would not be so inconsiderate. His curiosity was answered as two strange men burst into his chamber. Indignation flared. "How dare you violate the sanctity of the Babymaker's residence! Who are you? What do you want?"

"Don't get your knickers in a knot!" Growled the scruffy older man. "You got no say in this." He stepped up to tower over Jensen. Every aspect of his bearing threatening.

The other intruder looked uneasy. He pulled the older man back. "Take it ease. Don't make this worse."

"You want me to send an engraved invitation?" He sneered at his colleague before his venom turned back to Jensen. "We can do this nice and easy or it can get ugly!. Get up!." When Jensen made no effort to comply, he roared, "Now!" A backhanded blow punctuated the command.

Edgar stepped up to block the follow through. "Azazel! Stop it! Beating him won't help." Blood flowed from the split lower lip. "He can't get up. Not on his own at least. That's what that troop of servants we tied up, are for. He's too baby-heavy to move much on his own."

"Then how the hell do we get this fat slug out of here?" Frustration was building, overshadowing the thrill of a daring misdeed. "If he can‘t walk, he can’t sit a horse!" Azazel's hand settled on the hilt of his dagger. The sight of blood really turned him on. "Let's just end it now."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it this story keeps growing!


	4. Chapter 4

Ah, the joys of being a Councilman, Bobby thought as he watched the remnants of the crowd partying in the street. Not only did you have to make the hard decisions for the good of the Community but you got to babysit the village idiots and drunks. Some just didn't know when to pull the plug on the celebration. Fun was fun. But it was time to head home now, folks. Time to sleep it off. As it was they'd all probably be facing a hell of hangover in the morning.

Mounted, Bobby cut through the group of staggering dancers. That got their attention. "Break it up, people. Time to call it a night."

"Ah, Bobby, come on. Just having a little fun..." Slurred Ed as he sagged against Harry. His weight threatened to topple them both. "Ain’t hurting nobody."

Morons, Bobby thought, as the pair stood swaying drunkenly in the street. "Time to call it a night, fellas. People need to get some sleep." The other revellers showed some good sense and started to wander off toward their homes. Only Harry and Ed remained. These two assbutts, they would sooner piss into the wind than... Some thing moving fast diverted Bobby's attention. "Go on home, boys," Bobby ordered distractedly, "Don't make me tell you again."

Bobby moved on toward the approaching figure. He recognized the runner as he drew nearer. Anticipating trouble, he moved to intercept. "Castiel! Something wrong?" He reined to keep pace, beside the Omega. "Is the Babymaker alright?"

Panting from his exertion, Castiel struggled to answer as he jogged onward. "Jensen—fine. Emergency—home... Loki— missing!"

That earned a frown from Bobby. "I just left Gabriel, not more than ten minutes ago. He's patrolling the northwest sector. He didn’t say anything about trouble at home. How did you get word of it?"

The frown transferred to Castiel, as he pulled up short. He shrugged as he took in a deep breath. "One of the attendants relayed it from a messenger at the gate. He said, I thought, the summons came from Gabe. I don’t know, for sure. Maybe it was from one of the nannies."

"Couldn’t be from Gabriel. Council's been meeting for the past hour. We were hoping to get a report from Sam. When that didn't happen, John suggested we tuck in the last party people." Bobby rubbed at the back of his neck, something didn't feel right to him. He could see Castiel was anxious to continue on, worried about his son. "I suppose Jensen can manage without you for a bit. The Midwife is there, if he -"

"Ellen had to go to her place, to get some supplies." Castiel bit his lower lip, his frown deepening. "She should have been back by now. I'm sure she's on her way. I didn't want to leave Jensen alone, with only that useless pack of Betas to assist him but he insisted I go. He loves Loki too."

That raised the hackles on Bobby. Something didn't seem right here. The Midwife absent. Castiel unexpectedly called away. Most likely it was nothing to worry about. But worrying was one of the things Bobby did best. "You go on home, check on your family. I'll go keep the Babymaker company. At least til Ellen gets back."

Bobby turned toward the Babymaker’s residence. He had planned on stopping in anyway. The pandemonium in the streets earlier had been too great to return the carriage to storage. That was as good of an excuse as any, he supposed, if anyone questioned why he was making the late night call.

*

A mouthwatering aroma was the first sense to awaken. Then the sweet sound of someone- a woman's melodic humming. The tune was punctuated by a steady thumping and the small, barely audible sound of metal clicking against metal. That brought memory into focus. Sam forced his eyes open, aware that he should be ready to defend himself.

"Rest easy, young one. Don’t you mess up my needlework. This here," She lifted the knitting that she held. "Or the embroidery I had to do on your back. I'm telling you, it took a passel of stitches to close up that wound." The old woman tsk-tsked at his determination to sit upright then conceded. She helped him sit up, steadied him when the world spun. "Tried to warn you. You bled like a stuck pig. Thought I'd never staunch the flow. Just sit still a moment. Get your bearings. And some color back in those pretty cheeks." She spoke soothingly as she settled him against a mound of pillows.

Sam was loathed to admit that sitting upright, being still was all that he could manage at this time. Gradually his vision cleared. His head didn't feel quite so heavy. He sipped eagerly when the old woman held a cup to his lips. The water was cool and washed away the cotton coating his tongue. "Thank you." Sam remembered his manners. "And thank you for taking care of my wound."

"Couldn't let you lie there and bleed to death." The woman said, trying to be stern but her kind concern was evident in her gentle eyes. "Besides this Clan don't approve of back stabbing. Gordon," She clucked her tongue in disapproval, "That boy always was a hot headed little punk. Never thought of the consequences. Always just jumped right in with both feet, never paying no mind to who he was stomping on. Serves him right," She nodded with self satisfaction. "Interfering in a proper challenge like that. Serves him right." 

"What 'serves him right'?" Sam asked, curious to know what justice the Dark Wolf Clan would impose on his attacker. "What will the Clan do to him?"

"Oh, it's already done. Uriel ran him through, nearly at the same time Victor did." She reported matter of factly. "Ain't proper to interfere in a Challenge. No, it ain't. That would leave a stain on Uriel's honor as well as the Clan's. Like I said Gordon never did consider the consequences. Serves him right to be dead." She concluded emphatically. "Now don't you go fretting about him. You worry about yourself. Is that water sitting easy on your stomach? Think you could manage some broth? It will fortify you," She added encouragingly, "And it is tasty, I'm told."

*

"Hold on!" Edgar stayed Azazel's hand. "That wasn’t the plan."

"Boss won’t mind if we get creative." He smiled wickedly. "Don't see why we can't enjoy ourselves as long we get the job done. Bet he'll scream real pretty if we cut those babies out."

Disgusted by his partner's bloodlust, Edgar dragged him away from the Babymaker. "The important thing is to do the job right! The Boss doesn’t want this ending up on his doorstep! We’re supposed to implicate the Dark Wolves! Butchering the Babymaker here won't do that."

"So what’s your plan, genius?" Azazel sneered. "How do you want to play this?"

Edgar thought fast. He was good at improvising, that's what made him successful working both sides against the middle. "There's that wagon in the courtyard. We haul him out and dump him in. We hitch our mounts to it." He didn't want to waste time finding the stables for the proper team. "The streets are mostly empty now. Anyone out now is stewed to the gills, probably won't even notice us. We slip quietly out of the village. Once we are past the perimeter, we ride hellbent to that oasis, just like we originally planned. The ride won't be smooth but his comfort doesn't matter."

"It’s your game, Eddie. What's a few bumps and bruises among friends, eh, cow?" Azazel winked at Jensen. "Wouldn't mind a chance to enjoy that pretty mouth after a moonlit ride! For now, I'll just gag the little cocksucker to keep him quiet."

*

"Now. Grip my hand." Sam obeyed Missouri’s command. The effort brought a twinge of renewed pain to his wound. "Good, good! Let's see if you can raise that arm. Careful. Don't want to tear those stitches." Sam grimaced, sweat beading his brow, as he succeeded in lifting his arm from the bolster that supported it. "Excellent! There doesn’t seem to be much, if any nerve damage. A few weeks rest, you should make a fair recovery."

"Thank you for all your care. You have been most kind. But please if you would summon my aide. It is imperative that I speak to Cole at once."

"Can't be done." Missouri replied, clucking her tongue. "Your young friend is gone. Victor too. Rode off to the Community as soon as we were sure you would live. Report to the Council, they will, all that's happened. And if the Goddess is willing, they'll sign that treaty you worked so hard to negotiate. Don’t seem right that they'll do it without you but you are going to be stuck in that bed a fortnight or more. Lost a good deal of blood, you did. Need to regain your strength. It will take time to heal."

"A fortnight? No! I have to return to my village at once. Jensen needs me now, not in a few weeks' time. Any day, he could deliver."

"Ah! You have a sweet little Omega waiting for you. Good, a fine Alpha specimen such as yourself should be breeding up a whole passel of pretty children!"

"You don't understand I have to go home now. Jensen needs me. I can feel it." That was true. The more his head cleared, the stronger his sense of foreboding grew. And it all centered around Jensen. Sam felt as if Jensen was calling to him for help. Screaming for help. He could not ignore that summons. Mustering his strength, Sam threw back the bed linens. That he was naked, did not impede his determination. The woman must have stripped him and bathed him when she tended to his wound. Sam swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He swallowed the hiss of pain as he struggled to his feet. The surroundings spun dizzily. Gripping the bed post, Sam fought to stay upright. Jensen needed him. He was going to Jensen now.

"Patience!" Missouri called for her granddaughter. "Child! Help me with this fool villager! He's trying to kill himself!"

*

By the time Bobby entered the compound of the Babymaker, he knew there was trouble, real trouble. The outer gate stood ajar. The guard was absent from his post. Red alerts were firing in his brain as Bobby dismounted and tethered his horse. Common sense told him to ride for help, instinct dictated that he search out the threat. He drew his blade as he moved on toward the house.

As expected, he found the guard first. Stashed in an alcove, the man’s head had been bashed in, no pulse. He had never drawn his sword. There was no indication that he'd put up any fight. In fact, the nearly empty jug of wine and the deck of bawdy playing cards scattered near the body testified to the man’s dereliction of duty. Bobby would say the idiot got what he deserved but his lapse of duty had greater ramifications. They had all been lax in their duty to protect the Babymaker.

Feeling the weight of their failure, Bobby moved on. The main door was splintered, hanging aschew by one hinge. A cautious survey of the entry hall, revealed more damage, more scattered debris but, thankfully, no bodies. Keeping his back to the wall for protection, Bobby advanced. A muffled sound focused his attention on a closed door, the small storage room beyond. Leary of a trap, Bobby stood to the side as he turned the knob then flung the door open. Nothing. No one jumped out to attack him. 

Cautiously, Bobby peered around the door jam. Three wide eyed attendants, bound and gagged were huddled together in the small space. Their terror was palpable. Bobby used his blade to sever the rope binding their wrists. Once freed, each pulled the gag stuffed in his mouth and began to babble incoherently about their ordeal.

*

It galled Jensen to passively accept these indignities. He wanted to fight. He wanted to demand the proper respect due his station. However the reality, the gravity of his situation, kept him quiet and docile as the pair of intruders dragged him out of the house and dumped him unceremoniously into the back of the carriage. It was obvious that they cared nothing about his comfort or his condition. His life and his babies' lives were in mortal jeopardy. If he offered any resistance, it seemed likely that the older man would delight in killing him then and there. The other assailant's control of his partner seemed tenuous, at best. And, in truth, there was little Jensen could do to defend himself. It was wisest, he decided to play along, stall if possible. Rescue might be coming. Ellen was overdue to return. Or Cas might come back with news of Loki...

The sick realization dawned that his caregivers' absence had been arranged. That they too had been targeted by these thugs. In fact, his friends might already be incapacitated or worse. A sob escaped, unheard by the two men arguing over how to hitch their mounts to the carriage. Ellen and Castiel might have been injured, even killed by these two black hearts.

'Goddess, help me!' Jensen prayed silently. 'Protect these new lives that I carry in your name.' The prospect of death was a stark reality. 'Sam, I love you." The gag muffled his sob. "I need you.'

*

The cart moved slowly but it did move. Sam took some solace in that fact. Missouri kept the mule at a steady pace. She sang out encouragement whenever the animal tried to slack off. His mount, he knew, could have covered the distance at three times this speed. The cart shuddered, jostling its passengers as its wheels hit a rut in the well trodden trail. Sam bit back a grunt of pain. He would provide no reason to slow their progress, no excuse to stop his return to the Community, no matter how ill advised his benefactors might judge the effort.

Patience looked back from her seat beside her grandmother. Both women were worried about his condition. They had tried to dissuade him, to force him back to bed, he needed to rest and recover. Sam, although weak and injured, would not yield. He was determined to return to Jensen with all possible speed. The cart, instead of his horse, was a concession to expediency. As were the borrowed robes he wore. He would have ridden naked, at full speed to Jensen if he had had his way. Another jolt of the small wagon reminded him of his injury and Missouri's argument. He could feel the bandages binding his shoulder growing more and more blood soaked with each mile. Missouri had been right, moving about had reopened his wound. Not that Sam intended to admit that. He was heading towards Jensen. That was all that mattered.

*

"Quiet! Bobby roared. The order brought a minimum of control to the hysterical threesome that he had discovered. "Now you," He pointed to the one who seemed the most likely to be coherent. "Tell me what happened."

"Two men broke in. They were armed. They demanded to be taken to the Babymaker." He wiped his tears on his sleeve."Wetold them 'no' but they hit us. Threatened us. They tied us up. Locked us in here. I thought they were going to kill us."

"Just two men? Eight serve the Babymaker!" Bobby shot back, disgusted by their ineptitude. "What happened to the Babymaker?"

The three were openly crying, acutely aware of their cowardice. "We don’t know."

Bobby singled out the attendant who seemed more reliable. "Pull yourself together, man! We don't have time for sniveling! You, can you run?" With the man's hesitant nod, Bobby ordered. "Then run to the Council Chamber. Winchester should be there. Tell him- and only him- what has happened. Do not spread word of this to the people. Do you understand me? We don’t want panic or a riot. Go, man, as fast as you can!"

Bobby didn't spare the departing Beta another glance. He turned to search the rest of the residence.

*

The carriage bounced along as the horses were spurred onward by the kidnappers. Saddle broke, the horses were not trained to pull as a team. They fought the harness and reins, making the ride hazardous as well as uncomfortable. Edgar and Azazel had been forced to ride their mounts to maintain any control. The two men paid their captive no attention as they struggled to control their mounts and complete their mission.

Hands bound, gagged, Jensen withstood the rough ride with little other recourse. Each jolt of the carriage rolled Jensen around the unpadded, flower littered bed. He tried as best he could to steady himself, to guard his babies. But he had not the strength to sustain the effort. He could not anticipate the jarring action. Pain, external and internal, made it difficult to remain aware. A hard bump threw him To the rear of the small wagon. Head spinning, disoriented and in pain, he struggled to continue the only assistance he could provide to any possible rescuer. Grasping some of the crushed blossoms that they crowd had bestowed on him that morning-- had it been only that morning the crowd had cheered him?-- Jensen threw the flowers over the carriage’s side. Hopefully a search party- if there was a search party- could follow the trail he had been leaving. It was a meager effort but the only hope he had.

The carriage jolted again, throwing him hard against the tailgate. His waters broke, flooding the carriage bed. Pain spasmed. Jensen gripped the tailgate with his bound hands. When the contraction finally eased, he realized the tailgate rattled in place. The memory of Bobby removing the piece to roll his chair into place sprang full blown in his mind. If- if he could release the mechanism... if...

Jensen scrabbled to figure out how the mechanism worked. There! A latch! Hampered by the bindings, he fumbled with the catch. It yielded suddenly. The tailgate dropped away. Another jarring jolt sent Jensen airborne. He landed in a heap on the rutted roadway. His escape went unnoticed by either of his abductors as the carriage sped on.

*

The water was cool and refreshing as Cole sluiced a cupful over his head. He hadn’t wanted to take this break at the oasis. He had thought it would be a waste of time. The sun was rising. They were less than a half day's ride from the Community. He just wanted to get back and report to the Council. Put this mess in the Council's hand and be done with it. Cole didn’t think he was cut out for a life of diplomacy and politics.

But Hendricks had been adamant that they stop at the oasis. It would be wise to water and rest their mounts he had argued. And they would also benefit from the break. Victor had gone further, taking the opportunity to bathe and change his robes.

"Well, aren’t you looking pretty." Cole commented dryly. "Wish you had warned me that we were getting all duded up. I'm going to look like a trail tramp riding beside you. You'll have all the Omegas swooning over you. Maybe even some choice Betas."

Grinning widely, Victor took no offense at his companion's teasing. He knew he looked good. He also knew the importance of appearance. As the appointed representative of the Dark Wolf Clan, he did not intend to appear before a new and powerful ally cloaked in sweat and dust. It was bad enough that he had to tell them of the treachery that had taken place under his aegis. It was not an auspicious start to their relationship.

"If I’m going to be hanged for Sam's injury, I want to look good on the scaffold."

"Ain't nobody gonna hang you." Cole drawled, sure of that fact. "Wasn't your fault. And you saved Sam's backside. Can't nobody fault you there."

"I sincerely hope you are right, my friend. I am rather fond of myself. I..." Victor trailed off as his eyes narrowed, focused on the distance beyond. "Gather your belongings. We should leave here now."

Cole swung round to follow his line of sight. "What is it? What do you see?"

"There." Victor pointed. "Just below the horizon. To the right of those rocks. See the dust rising? Something coming this way. Fast."

"What do you think it is?" Cole asked as he shoved his gear into his saddle pack.

"Could be nothing." Victor answered as he, too, packed his belongings. "Maybe just a grazing herd spooked by a predator." He paused to eye the dust cloud again. "But they're following the trail. To me, that says it's men moving. Coming fast and hard. Which to my way of thinking, means trouble. I want to see them before they see us."

Cole trusted the wisdom of the nomadic hunter.

*

"Saddle up!" John commanded. He wasn’t pleased. It had taken way too long to organize this rescue party. They should have been on the trail more than an hour ago. The Babymaker was in danger. For the Goddess' sake, they needed to move. Now!

Bobby rolled his eyes as he watched Dick Roman trying to mount his horse. The animal circled nervously as the dandy tried to fit his foot into the stirrup. Had the prissy fool ever ridden before? Why was the asshat insisting on accompanying the rescue party? The man was all pretty words, no action. He'd be useless in a fight. Most likely he'd faint if they had to draw blood. But he was a member of the Council. John said he had as much right as any of them, to come. 

Bobby spurred his mount forward. He seized the bridle of Roman's gelding, held the horse steady with a firm hand while the man finally gained the saddle. Dick curled his lip in what Bobby supposed could have been a sign of appreciation. Or mortification. Either way, Bobby wasn’t going to babysit the resident Council fop.

"Let’s ride."

*

Jensen lived in a world of pain. The contractions were minor inconveniences. He was an experienced Omega. He knew his body was working to bring forth new life. Labor was hard but beneficial. He should be able to breathe through the escalating pressure. He knew what to expect. He tried to relax and allow his body to do what came naturally. It wasn’t as easy as it should be.

His entire body had been bruised by the rough ride. When he fell, he had landed like a ton of bricks. He had expected that. He tried to protect his babies, curling his arms around his belly. He could only hope that the babies had not been injured. He had landed awkwardly. The biggest pain was in his shoulder and ribs. Jensen was pretty sure his collarbone was broken. Likely a couple of ribs, too. Another contraction seized his core. His babies would be born soon.

The babies... Jensen bit his lower lip, fighting down fear for his babies. He had never been unattended in his previous deliveries. Before, there had always been helping hands to catch each child as it emerged from his body. The attendants had been eager to bathe and care for each new life. The birthing process was supposed to be a joyous, glorious celebration.

Now he was alone. Alone in the middle of nowhere. That was frightening. Jensen looked back along the trail. The sun was up now. His abduction would be discovered soon, if it hadn’t been already. Help would come. Help had to come. Jensen closed his eyes to whisper a prayer to the Goddess. 'Please protect these babies.' He added a silent plea for Sam to be at his side. Opening his eyes, he turned to look in the opposite direction. As desperate as his current situation was, he was sure of one thing— he and his babies were safer here among the rocks and sand than with his abductors. 

*

The search party found the first wilted flowers less than ten yards from the Community's perimeter.

"What's the big deal?" Dick groused, discounting their significance. "It's just a brunch of dead posies. Some peasant Must have dropped them."

Bobby did a slow burn. Since when did that tricked out jackass know anything about tracking? Any fool with half a brain could see these flowers were freshly crushed by a single carriage wheel. That was plain as could be. Bobby was about to tell Roman just what a dickhead he was when he caught the look on John's face. They were all worried about the Babymaker. Tearing Roman a new one wouldn't get them any closer to finding Jensen.

"Ride on." Bobby kneed his horse into a canter. "This way." He added with confidence.

*

From their vantage point, Victor and Cole now had a clear view of the oasis. Their mounts were tethered behind a natural screen of trees and boulders. Victor had taken the precaution of giving both nose bags of grain to keep them silent.

The small wagon rattled to an abrupt stop. It looked much the worse for the hard wear. The front axle was obviously bent, bowing both wheels outward. Both horses were lathered, stamping their hooves in frustration to be harnessed to this contraption. It was a wonder that the once fancy conveyance had made it this far.

Both men dismounted, grumbling at the discomfort of their ride. The younger, more spry man circled to the wagon.

"Fuck! What the hell?!"

"What you griping about now?" The older man shot back, as he bent to ease his stiffness in his back.

"He’s gone!" Edgar shouted, throwing his hands in the air to illustrate his exasperation..

"What do you mean he’s gone? He's dead?" Azazel righted himself to stare at his partner in crime. He wasn’t surprised that Edgar would be squeamish over a dead body. The Boss had warned him that the man might be going soft. He had been delegated to handle that if the need arose.

"Not dead! Gone- like not here!" Edgar rounded the wagon's back. Out of sheer frustration, he brought both fists down Hard on the empty bed. "He must have fallen out somewhere along the way."

"The Boss ain’t gonna like that. We were hired to do a job. Boss is going to be pissed, for sure."

"Well, thank you for that brilliant observation!" Edgar sagged against the carriage, feeling the pressure. He scrubbed at the tension in his neck. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

"Ain’t no 'we' in this! This is your fault. If we'd gutted him like I wanted to, this never would have happened. This is on you, buddy boy! All your problem, not mine."

"You lousy piece of shit! I knew I couldn’t count on you to have my back." Enraged, Edgar swung on his accomplice.

Azazel answered by drawing his blade.

*

By the third cluster of flowers, even Dick Roman had to admit that they marked the trail the abductors had taken. In the privacy of his own thoughts, Dick cursed the ineptitude of his operatives. The damn fools, he thought he had chosen better. But in the world of dark dealings, you seldom had the best manpower with which to work. You did the best you could then mitigated the damages when they arose. Brains always won out over brawn. But to do that, he had to be at the scene.

Bobby paused only long enough to drop a marker for the buckboard that followed. It was driven by Gabriel. He was accompanied by both Ellen and Castiel and whatever supplies and equipment they deemed necessary. The larger wagon couldn’t keep pace with the search party but was a vital part of the rescue team. When, if, they found Jensen, he would almost certainly need their care and expertise.

At full speed, Bobby spurred onward. John lingered long enough to see that all the searchers headed out in the right direction. They were riding hard and fast. Some of their party weren’t experienced hunters. Some, like Dick Roman, weren’t particularly good riders. As much as he was worried about the Babymaker, the unborn children and Sam, John still had a responsibility to all of the Community and its citizens. Something niggling in the back of his mind told him to keep a sharp eye out, particularly for Dick. The man shouldn’t have been included on this search. He was more of a hindrance than a help.

*

The sun was climbing higher. The contractions were growing more intense. Laboring like this, crumpled upon the dirt was neither efficient nor effective. Between contractions, Jensen had tried dragging his baby heavy body to the shade of some nearby bushes. The effort had been exhausting. As well as ineffective. And it had intensified the pain in his upper body to the point of losing consciousness. He awoke to find carrion birds circling overhead. Once upon a time in the what seemed like long ago past of comfort and coddling, Sam regaled him with hunters' tales. These birds, Sam had said, could pick a body clean in less than a day. Jensen feared what they- and other predators- would do to his defenseless newborns. Birth was a time of great vulnerability. 

'Sam, where are you?' He closed His eyes in silent prayer. 'Goddess, please watch over these little ones."

*

"He's looking awfully pale, Gran. Maybe we best stop to tend to our passenger." Patience suggested. "There's blood staining his bandages."

"Has he passed out yet?" Missouri asked keeping her eyes on the trail. She wasn't spry enough at her age to crane her neck around to check on their patient herself. In her peripheral vision she saw her granddaughter shake her head. "Stubborn fool! Won't give in to his own body's need for rest!." Missouri considered the angle of the morning sun. "We'll make the oasis before mid morning. He won't like it but we will stop there. We'll change the dressing. Depending how much damage he's done to our doctoring, we'll see about pushing on to get him to his precious Omega."

*

The fight was over quickly. 

Azalel drew first blood, slashing across Edgar's upper right arm and chest. His preferred style of fighting was to bloody his opponent, maiming him limb by limb until he could execute the killing blow. To his way of thinking, a quick, merciful kill just wasn't any fun.

Edgar read the bloodlust in his opponent's eyes. This wasn’t a mutual venting of frustration or dislike. Azazel meant to kill him if he could. Edgar didn’t like that plan. He drew his own knife. He considered himself more of a thinker, a planner but he could kill when it was necessary. Now looked like that time.

Azazel lunged, driving the tip of his blade into Edgar's thigh. He pulled back quickly, dancing out of range. This was fun! An evil smile bloomed. He loved to slice and dice. He would do this all day, if he had his durthers . He liked blood and suffering as long as it wasn’t his own.

Edgar feinted right with his knife and threw a left uppercut that caught Azazel square on his bristly chin. That dimmed some of the manic glow in the man's eyes. They grappled in close range, free arms locked around each other. Azazel drew his blade across Edgar's belly. Blood gushed forth. Pain exploded. Edgar recognized a mortal wound. Determined, he mustered all his strength. He drove his own blade up, beneath the bastard's ribs, pulled back to punch it in again.

The pair collapsed, still locked together.

With the combatants lying motionless, Cole and Victor emerged from cover. The outbreak of fighting had taken the watchers by surprise. The fast bloody outcome seemed a unconscionable waste of precious life. Cole and Victor had overheard enough to raise their suspicions but not enough to explain the circumstances. They hurried forward to the downed bodies. Wary of being caught in the fighting, each grasped a shoulder to roll the assailants apart. The older, scruffy man stared up at Victor with glazed, lifeless eyes. His opponent's blade was lodged in his heart.

Cole knelt beside the other combatant. Both hands were pressed to the man's abdomen in a vain attempt to staunch the outpouring of blood. One glance at the belly wound, the pool of blood, told Victor this wound too was fatal. He knelt on the opposite side. The man's lips moved. Victor bent down to hear the dying man's words.

"Aza—zel?" He gasped, over the pain.

"Dead. You stuck him in the heart."


	5. Chapter 5

Jensen fought the urge to push. He panted, quick shallow breaths to work through the contraction just as Cas had taught him so long ago. Castiel! The thought of his friend and teacher brought tears to his eyes. He didn't want to birth these babies, out here in the wilderness, alone and unprotected. This wasn't right. They should come into the world within the heart of the Community. Their arrival should be a time of joy and celebration. Not fear. Not desperation.

Why had the Goddess abandoned him when he most needed her love and protection. What was to become of his babies? They would surely perish stranded here in the wilderness. And their deaths would foretell dark days for the Community. Had a Babymaker ever died in service to the Goddess and her favored people? Jensen struggled to remember the lore. Once, he remembered vaguely, long in the past, a rival tribe had tried to steal the Babymaker. It had been a vain attempt to secure the Goddess' blessing. War had been the result. Many lives were lost on both sides. What had been the fate of that Babymaker? Jensen could not recall. But he knew he did not want to be the cause of war and suffering for his people and those he loved. 'Sam! Where are you? Help me!'

A new contraction began, strong and hard. It built quickly. Again he panted to control the escalating pressure, the need to push. It was hard to maintain his focus. Desperation and hopelessness threatened his control. The demands of nature could not be forestalled indefinitely. Regardless of the circumstances, these babies would be born.

*

While Victor listened to the dying man's last words, Cole puzzled over the scene they had witnessed. The two had fought over something lost from that broken down carriage. Cole turned to stare at the dust covered, dilapidated vehicle. Something or someone? Hidden beneath the dirt, he recognized that conveyance! He had seen it regularly growing up in the Community!

"Why do you have the Babymaker’s carriage?" He demanded, outrage and panic surging, as his fists tightened on the blood soaked shirt. "What have you done with the Babymaker? Where is he?"

"Don't.... know." Edgar gasped, his strength bleeding out. "Lost... 'n trail..."

That was enough information to put Cole in motion. He ran to their concealed horses. Before Victor could even react, Cole was mounted and headed down the trail. Victor remained to hear the dying man's final words. 

"Boss... 'll ...pissed."

*

Cole rode hard and fast. The ragged tracks of the carriage were easy enough to follow. There hadn't been much recent traffic this far from the Community. After a mile, maybe two or three, he spied an ominous sign up ahead. Scavenger birds were on the wing, circling. A few bold ones could be seen descending to land. Cole spurred his mount to greater speed.

*

Despite the spate of flowers to lead the way, the rescue party was making progress. They had to be gaining on the perpetrators and their precious cargo. This far from the village, the wavering tracks of the carriage were easy to follow. Judging by the tracks, Bobby anticipated finding the small wagon broken down around every upcoming bend in the trail. The carriage had never been intended for more than ceremonial use. Prolonged, hard use, like this, was sure to wreck the gilded conveyance. The question was what would happen to the Babymaker when the transport failed? Would he survive the crash? If he did, how badly would he be injured? And what would the abductors do with him then. Damn it! Why had they stolen the Babymaker in the first place?

Determined to find answers, Bobby pushed on. Jensen was out there, somewhere. The search party was not giving up. They would find him despite Dick Roman's constant sniveling. Bobby was sorely tempted to plow his fist into the whining pretty boy's big mouth. That might shut the cowardly bastard up! It was a good thing John was keeping Roman close to his side. Otherwise Bobby might have vented some of his frustration on his least favorite Council cohort. And that would have been a sorry waste of time. Finding the Babymaker should be their sole priority, Bobby reminded himself. There was no time for bickering amongst themselves.

*

She didn’t like the looks of the place. Not at all. There were buzzards circling overhead. That was never a good sign. The carrion eaters fulfilled their role in nature but their feasting was never a pretty sight. Missouri was tempted to circle around the oasis to avoid the unpleasantness for Patience's sake, more than herself. However practicality outweighed squeamishness. She sighed, resigning herself to do what was necessary. It could be Victor or the other pretty villager injured or worse, taking refuge at the oasis. It was her duty to check. Add to that the fact that her young charge needed tending. This was the best place to stop to see to his wound. As Missouri saw it, she had no choice. She had to stop.

With its plentiful source of fresh water, the oasis was an accepted neutral zone, welcoming all travelers. It had never within all of Missouri’s years been a place of violence. Now, there was a somber scene spread across the lush site. Two men lay dead, apparently by each others' hand. And standing nearby were two saddled horses, harnessed to a broken down frou-frou of a wagon. There were signs of other riders, probably—hopefully— Victor and the other villager. None of this made much sense. If Victor had been here, he would have, should have seen to these bodies. It wasn’t decent to leave a human body to be picked clean by the scavengers. Victor knew that as well as she did. The man had proper trail training. The only reason to leave remains unburied, Missouri mused, was if something more urgent made you press on. Could that be...

"How you holding up, young fellow?" Missouri called over her shoulder. "I’m thinking it might be best to stop and rest a bit." In truth it would take Patience and her the better part of a day to build a cairn to keep the scavengers at bay. It was what decency demanded but this time it just didn’t feel right.

"I’m fine." At Patience's disputing glare, he clarified. "At least good enough. I know that carriage." Desperation spurred his words. "We have to keep going. We have to find Jensen. He needs help. He's calling for me to help."

That was enough for Missouri. If ever there was a time to listen to your gut instincts, she figured this was it. She slapped the reins against the rump of her mule. Her wagon moved out at a faster pace.

*

Shrill cries sounded over the pounding of his mount's hooves. Just up ahead, the scavengers encircled the meager shade offered by some scrub trees. A few more of the ugly birds were perched overhead. Cole reined his horse in, hard. The abrupt stop sprayed gravel and dirt, enough to disperse the waiting birds. Now Cole could see where the Babymaker lay. Heart pounding, he swung out of the saddle and ran.

For all his life, the Babymaker had been a figure of respect and veneration. Cole wasn’t one of the privileged few who kept company with the embodiment of the Goddess. For the likes of him, the Babymaker was worshipped from afar. Cole considered himself blessed to call Sam Winchester, his friend. Through that association, perhaps he had a more intimate knowledge of the Babymaker, than the average citizen of the Community. But nothing in Cole's young life had prepared him for this!

The Babymaker lay bruised and sunburnt on the side of the trail. Ragged bed linens partially covered his sweat and dirt stained body. His right shoulder and, what Cole could see of his rib cage, were black and blue and swollen. His pregnant belly was grossly oversized. As Cole watched, he saw the great mass tighten and clench. Jensen moaned, stirring feebly. The green eyes that Sam praised for their beguiling beauty, opened. How the laboring Omega found the strength to smile at him, Cole would never know.

"Help me! Please!" Jensen made a futile effort to reach down the length of this body. "The baby!"

Cole shook himself out of stunned immobility. He moved closer and dropped automatically to his knees. There, between the splayed legs, lay a male newborn, still slick with the birthing fluids, contentedly sucking his thumb. A thick grey cord ran from the baby's abdomen to disappear up the depth of Jensen's birthing channel. The baby blinked, impossibly blue eyes and stared up at him. Cole felt his heart turn over, his mouth formed a small "o" of awe. Enthralled he lifted the child from his place in the dirt.

"Please!" Jensen raised spindly arms to take the baby. The afterglow of the birth orgasm mellowed his fears, boosted his energy. The fact that he was no longer alone, gave him reason to be optimistic. An abundance of hormones flowed. Jensen would no longer fight the contractions. Now he would welcome his babies into the world, into his arms, to his breast.

Cole started to hand over the child. The umbilical cord prevented the transfer. 

Jensen managed a small indulgent laugh. "You have to cut the cord. But first," He hurried to add, "Tie it off with something." The next contraction underlined the fact that this labor was far from over. "Better hurry. There are seven more to come."

"Seven?" Cole squeaked. His panic surged anew. "Seven!"

"Don't worry. I‘ll do the hard work." Jensen's smile broadened. "And savor the pleasure." He would earn each orgasm as he pushed the babies out of his battered body. "You just be sure to catch them. Okay?"

*

Riding point, Bobby was the first to find the tailgate. As he feared the carriage was falling apart. They were less than five miles from the oasis. It seemed logical, if anything about this damn situation could be called logical, that that would be the abductors' destination. With John's approval, Bobby split the search party. Half, lead by Asa, would ride cross country to outflank their prey. If they found no one at the oasis, they would double back.

That would maximize their chance of rescuing the Babymaker.

*

Victor caught up to Cole just as the second baby was crowning. From his crouched position between the Babymaker's legs Cole looked up at his travel companion with undisguised relief. He was thrilled to have someone else share the responsibility of caring for the Babymaker and the coming babies. Victor didn’t share his enthusiasm, in fact he was rather terrified by what he came upon. He was no more experienced than the young villager. Childbirth was not in his area of expertise. Birth was strictly the specialty of Omegas and fertile Beta females. Alphas specialized in the starting of pregnancies, not the culmination.

"I need your help. We need your help." Cole emphasized. "Give me your cloak. And your shirt." Cole had already sacrificed his wardrobe. He had shredded his weskit to tie off umbilical cords. His shirt swaddled the first newborn. He had even spared a few moments to jerryrig his rain gear to provide some shade, however meager, for Jensen and the babies.

Victor was more than willing to contribute his clothing. Without prompting, he immediately set about adding his own foul weather gear to increase the shade. That was the easy part. Given the option, Victor would have preferred to remain on the sidelines, as a distant, a very distant observer of the wonder of birth. Cole, however, would have none of that. As he saw it, he needed any and all the help the circumstances provided.

*

Jensen fought to maintain awareness. It would be easy to surrender to the rapture of childbirth. His body was beyond his control. Hormones were surging. Serotonin, oxytocin, plus he knew not what else, flooded his system. Focus, Jensen told himself. Focus. These untrained Alphas needed guidance. He drew a deep cleansing breath, barely feeling the ache in his battered ribs. The Goddess had sent him help. It was up to him to help the helpers!

The baby was perfectly situated now, applying equal pressure on his prostate and g-spot. Oh, this was the ultimate Omega experience. More! More, more! The next contraction began. Pressure built quickly. The second birth was eminent. Soon- his toes curled, his back arched beneath the weight of his belly- soon... 

"It's coming!" Jensen gasped as sensation peaked. "Be ready!"

"Victor! Get your ass over here! Now!"

*

The peal of a newborn's cry alerted the rescue party that they were nearing their destination. Unsure of what the situation would be up ahead, Bobby slowed their approach. Better to use a bit of caution than to get Jensen killed by crashing in on the unknown.

"Come on, man! I need help!" The panicked voice of a man cut through the baby's cries. "Oh! By the Goddess! It's slippery. It's a girl! Oh! Look at her! She's beautiful! Help me now! We've got to tie off the rope thing. Come on. I can't do that and hold her, too."

"Ok, ok. Just don’t make me look."

"Stop whining! Help me. Tie the cord off. Come on, man. There are six more coming."

"Six more!" Victor went ashen despite his dark complexion.

"Just do it." Cole instructed. "Don't you dare pass out on me! Come on, man! Wrap her in your shirt. We have to keep them warm. Ok. Now you hold her. I'll..."

"I don’t want to hold her! What if I drop her? She'll break!"

"Oh, for the Goddess' sake! Then you cut the cord."

The kneeling men were too busy bickering, too consumed by inexperience to register anything beyond their vital task. 

"Don't anybody move!" Bobby ordered as the riders closed in. "We got you boys surrounded. Drop the knife and move away from the Babymaker.

Cole and Victor turned as one to face the newcomers. Stunned relief showed on both their faces. They no longer had to bear this burden alone.

Suddenly there was shouting. "They're stealing the Goddess' babies!" Dick Roman drew his pistol. He had to act fast, he knew. Where his operatives were, he didn't know. He had to use what he had to divert suspicions and continue to fan the flames of war. "Stop them!" He leveled his gun at the young man holding the infant.

John barely had a second to recognize Cole before Roman went commando. He saw the gun in the other man's hand, heard the mania in his voice. "No!" His gut instincts shouted. He kneed his mount hard as the Roman's finger tightened on the tigger. With a dressage move that Bobby had taught him, one that John never envisioned ever having the need to use, his horse leapt forward, all four hooves off the ground. The sudden explosion of movement at its side, caused Roman's less battle ready mount to shy and rear. The gun fired. The shot went wide. The bullet plinked up a cloud of dust. Unable to maintain his seat one handed, Roman was pitched out of the saddle. He landed hard on the trail, sprawled in the dirt. Jarred from his grip, his pistol landed a few feet away.

Both John and Bobby leapt from their saddles. John secured the fallen weapon. Bobby hauled Roman to his feet with a less than gentle grip on the man’s elegant attire. “What the Hell do you think you're doing! You could have killed the Babymaker!”

*

Jensen's reality was spinning with the rapid turn of events. The demands of labor, the ecstatic peaks of delivery made it hard to comprehend the turmoil around him. His desperate solitude had evaporated. Men, mostly Alphas he sensed, were all around him. Men arguing. Men shouting orders. Angry men. Stupid men, with little or no knowledge of his needs or how to care for his babies. Jensen knew a new form of despair. It was possible to be in the midst of many but still to be alone. 

'Sam, where are you?' Jensen thought again as another hard contraction built. "I need you!'

*

They had established a perimeter, stationing men to guard the laboring Babymaker. John had left the details of their defenses to Bobby, his able second in command. Meanwhile, John listened to Cole's, then Victor's reports. 

"Sir, I am sorry to meet you under these circumstances. I swear to you upon my honor that all Cole has said is true. This reprehensible crime was not a plot by my people. The perpetrators lie dead by each others' blade at the oasis to the west. We came upon them as the last drew his dying breath. They worked for a hidden 'Boss'. A man of power who they feared. Unfortunately I cannot tell you who. They took his name to the grave.

"My people very much desire an alliance with the Community. Your envoy, Sam, was most persuasive in presenting the benefits. But it was his valor in the challenge that won the hearts and respect of my Clan."

"A challenge?" John broke in, worry creasing his handsome face. "Where is my son?" He demanded of Cole.

"I was coming to that, sir. Sam accepted a challenge. He fought well. He was winning. He offered his opponent mercy rather than waste a life." Cole drew a big breath, hesitant to continue. "He was bushwhacked, sir. Attacked from behind by a man named, Gordon. Victor, here, killed him. Gordon, I mean. Sam was hurt. Lost a lot of blood. We left him behind at the Clan's campsite. He's in good hands and should recover. Victor says Missouri is one of the best healers he knows. I thought it best, that I return to report, sir. Victor insisted on riding along. He feels responsible. And if the Council is willing, he wants to sign the treaty Sam worked out. If you approve, sir..."

John's reply was forestalled by Michael's shout. "Riders coming, sir! From the west. Raising a lot of dust. Could be a big party."

John stepped to a better vantage point. He pulled out his spyglass to study the oncoming cloud of dust. "It's a wagon." He reported after a few moments of tense study. "Driven by two women." He offered the scope to Victor. "Anyone you know?"

The Clan chief accepted the strange device. Mimicking the Winchester, he held it up to his eye. The distant image jumped into focus. It seemed the wagon was suddenly right in front of him. Victor suppressed a start. He pulled the viewer down, saw the wagon was still distant. He looked again. "It’s Missouri. And her granddaughter, Patience." Victor felt his optimism wither. If Missouri was on the trail, that did not bode well for the patient he had left in her care.

Bobby stepped up. "Two women ain’t likely to be a much of a threat. Might even come in handy, in fact." He nodded toward Jensen's direction. "With your permission, John, I was going to send Zachariah back to hurry Ellen and Castiel along." Under his breath, he grumbled, "You know that Gabriel drives like an old lady."

*

Missouri had second thoughts about the wisdom of continuing on. Up ahead, her keen eyes could make out a crude encampment. Men stood watch. Armed men, she guessed by their stances. It was foolish to present a hostile band with two unarmed women and a wounded man. It was her duty to protect her granddaughter and her patient. 

Cursing her own foolhardiness, she slowed the wagon as she considered her options. No doubt their approach had already been detected. If she turned the wagon around and headed back to the oasis... Mounted riders could easily overtake them. If they tried to flee... If..

"Why are you slowing down?" Sam demanded as he pulled himself upright. He bit back a hiss of pain as the stitches closing his wound pulled at his flesh. 

"Strangers up ahead." Missouri reported tersely. "Look to be up to something. Likely no good."

Sam shifted his position. He got to his knees in the gently rocking wagon bed. He managed to grasp the back of the wagon seat to steady himself. Peering between the two women, he studied the group ahead. "We have to go on! Jensen is up ahead. I can feel him. Please!"

Missouri was about to ignore his plea when two riders separated from the camp. One rode a big dappled grey horse, the type the villagers favored. But the other rider was mounted on a stocky pinto like her own people rode. Missouri squinted, straining her eyes to make out the riders' features. Sam did the same.

"Victor." 

"Father." 

*

Once they entered the hastily established camp, Missouri was quick to size up the situation and take charge. 

'You bunch of Alpha ninnies.' She silently cursed the whole crew of men. All of them, standing around taking up space, puffing out their chest, trying to look important but doing nothing to help that poor laboring Omega. "Stop standing around! You," She selected one of the men at random, "Start a fire. We'll need water, hot water. The rest of you, gather firewood. Move now! Not you, Victor, help me down. Patience, bring my bag and a basin.

Sam also was on the move. Weak as he was, he was still determined to make his way to Jensen. He hoped his legs would hold him long enough. It would probably be wiser to ask for help, Sam realized. He was wounded. He was undeniably weak from blood loss. But he saw his father, sitting tall and stoic in his saddle. John Winchester, the epitome of the public servant. He looked almost regal astride his mount. John Winchester, who never let his personal pain stand in the way of his duty. Sam saw his father's eyes narrow. Perhaps in disappointment or disapproval. Sam bit back his need for help. He suppressed any traces of weakness or pain. He would not embarrass himself further before his father.

John was relieved to see Missouri take command of the situation. Although he had witnessed a number of births by the Babymaker during his time on the Council, he considered himself to be strictly an observer. The entire process recalled too vividly the tragedy of Mary's loss. Each time reinforced in his mind that he was at fault for her death. If young Omegas could routinely deliver three, four, more babies, why had his beloved wife died giving birth to his only one? Surely it must be the Goddess' way to punish him, to humble him.

John looked at his son. Sam was a fine young man, a son of which any man would be proud. Handsome, with Mary's high cheekbones and streaks of her sunlight in his hair. He was intelligent, brave and strong. John frowned, noting the paleness, the stain of bright red blood seeping through the coarsely woven shirt. Sam was injured. He could have been killed. The realization that he had sent his only son on a mission that could have cost him his life, froze John in his saddle.

Bobby stepped forward. He offered Sam a hand down from Missouri's wagon. Sam waved off his assistance.

"Don’t be a damn idjit! You’re hurt. There’s no shame in accepting help when it’s needed." Bobby scolded as he eased Sam down. Bobby draped Sam's good arm over his shoulder and half carried him toward where Jensen lay. "Come on, son. You’ll both feel better when you’re together again."

John watched their slow progress. He wished, not for the first time, that he had as easy of a relationship with his son as his old friend did.

*

First, Missouri did a quick check of the two crudely swaddled newborns. Both were hale and hearty. Big babes, beautiful in every way. As soon as that warm water available, she’d set Patience to the task of bathing the infants. Her girl would welcome that. Cuddling babies was always a joy. Right now, as Missouri saw it, her job was to care for this poor Omega. He was hardly more than a child himself. Breeding them young must be allowed within the Community. The Dark Wolf Clan favored waiting until an Omega was fully mature before breeding. Pregnancy and childbirth were hard on a body, especially when you and your people were constantly on the move.

This poor child had apparently had a rough time getting here. He was covered with bruises and scrapes. Missouri particularly didn’t like the looks of that shoulder and the rib cage. The poor child's upper body, on the right side, was a mass of bruises. And, to her eye, the bones beneath that swollen flesh looked to be at an odd angle. Right now it didn’t seem to be causing much of a problem. The Omega was obviously zoned out birthing hormones, feeling little, if any pain. That was good. That was how it should be. The Mother Goddess was gracious to those who labored on her behalf.

Be that as it may, there was no reason for this child to labor here in the dirt. Missouri would see that he was made more comfortable, the conditions, more sanitary for both his and the babies' sake. Hearing footsteps approaching, she looked up to find her other patient being half carried to join them. Ah, Missouri realized, this must be the cause of the handsome villager's urgency!

There were tales of some Oms being linked telepathically with their soul mates. Such links were supposed to be particularly strong when the Omega was with child. Missouri had always thought that those were just stories told around the campfires. She studied this pairing as the bearded man eased young Sam down beside the Omega. Maybe they were just fanciful tales, maybe not.

"You responsible for this?" Missouri questioned, nodding toward the still very pregnant Omega.

Sam hitched himself closer to Jensen before bothering to answer. "The babies are the Goddess'." He stated simply, ignoring his own pain was easy now that he was here. "Jensen is mine. Or he will be, if he'll still have me."

As if cued by his voice, those beguiling green eyes opened. "Sam!" The single name was filled with love and wonder. Missouri had all the information she needed.

*

By the time Gabriel pulled his wagon into the makeshift camp, some dramatic improvements had been made made. Jensen now rested on the pallet that had padded Missouri's wagon bed. His injuries, as well as Sam's wound were freshly bandaged. Sam cradled the Omega, supporting him, physically and emotionally, as each birth crested. Five swaddled bundles rested nearby. And a young woman was busy bathing a sixth baby. An older woman was positioned between Jensen's legs. She spoke calm, quiet words of encouragement as the Babymaker breathed through yet another contraction.

Both Castiel and Ellen were out of the wagon before it’s forward momentum stopped. Each had spent a long night and morning worrying about the Babymaker. Each had cursed himself repeatedly for being diverted from duty by false messages. Whatever had happened to Jensen or the babies he carried, each felt at fault.

"About time you showed up, Gramma." Bobby drawled his greeting to Gabriel as sauntered over to the supply laden wagon.

"Can it, Singer. I’ve had those two riding me since we set out." Gabe groused back, rubbing the back of his neck to relieve some of his tension. "Looks like you and John got everything just about wrapped up." His gaze held on the two shrouded bodies draped over their saddles. "I suppose those are our bad guys?"

"Well they ain't chopped chicken livers!" Bobby retorted. "No idea who they are or, more importantly, who they worked for. Jensen been a bit too busy to identify them. Seems they killed each other off, arguing, after they botched the kidnapping."

"They were taking orders from someone?" Gabriel questioned as he climbed down from the wagon.

"That's what he says." Booby pointed with his chin toward the dark stranger, off to one side, in conference with John Winchester. "That's Victor, clan leader of the Dark Wolves. Still wants to sign the treaty Sam negotiated." Bobby turned slightly to the heart of the improvised camp. "And our boy, Sam, there, got himself stabbed in the back by a low down dirty coward. Victor took care of that damn asshole." Bobby made a throat cutting gesture with his thumb. "This might be all just coincidence but I got a feeling somebody is behind all this, pulling strings!"

"Sounds like I missed all the fun!"

"Not all of it." Bobby shifted his position again so that Gabriel turned to face the waiting rescue party. Most of the men looked bored, some were downing trail rations. All, he knew, were impatient to head back, eager for the comforts of the Community. But several were actively arguing.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "What's up?"

"Oh you know Roman- he wouldn't be Dick if he wasn't running his mouth off, stirring the pot. That man sure likes to hear himself talk. I swear sometimes I think the man's goal is to start a war! Shoveling a load of shit, he is. Crapping about that this is all the Dark Wolves doing. Says we've got to teach 'em a lesson, make 'em respect us. The ass-hat has no proof. But that don’t matter— if you say something often enough and loud enough, some damn fools are bound to believe you - even if it is just a pile of shit.

"What's John doing about it?"

"Oh you know our fearless leader-- I wanted him to pin back Dick's ears-- John just says that a man has the right to his own opinion. The truth will win out in the end, according to his way of thinking. Me, I ain't so sure. Dick was going to ride back, with the bodies-- claimed it would spare the Babymaker 'further trauma'! I put the kibbosh on that. That man would have the whole village out for blood before we even got Jensen home and settled. I put my foot down. Nobody, goes anywhere until Ellen okays the Babymaker for traveling. That means, at least until he's done delivering those babies.

"I suspect John, and our newest ally are working on how to spin this to the Community. So in the meantime, how about you do your part? See if you can deflate that son of bitch's ego some, eh? Dick never could take a joke, especially when he finds himself at the butt end of one of yours."

A mischievous grin brightened Gabriel's face, "That would be my pleasure." He rubbed his hands together, warming to the idea. Yanking Dick Roman's chain was one of his favorite pastimes.

Bobby did a slow survey of the camp. Everything seemed well in hand. Sentries were stationed, alert to any potential danger. Ash and Cole were ferrying supplies from the recently arrived wagon to the delivery area. Ellen was in conference with Missouri. Castiel was busy checking over the babies with Patience. At his back, Bobby heard an explosion of laughter from the men waiting at the far side of the camp. Gabriel must have gotten off a good one at Dickhead's expense. 

Bobby allowed a small satisfied grin to show. Thank the Goddess, it looked like this disaster had been diverted! More laughter sounded from the men. Bobby, scratched at his beard. Maybe Rufus, he mused, would be up for some more undercover snooping...


	6. Chapter 6

Epilogue:

Sam paused at the terrace door. As he had anticipated Jensen was in garden. This flower filled bit of Eden had quickly become Jensen's favorite spot in his new home. The cottage was idyllic. Nestled at the edge of the Community, it offered the retired Babymaker all the desired comforts with the added bonus of the privacy that he had lacked for the past seven years.

The scrapes were long healed now. The bruises, faded. The broken bones, mostly knit. Recently, as tradition dictated, the octuplets had been weaned and moved to the Orphan House. Their removal had been hard on Jensen. More so, Sam knew, than the departure of any of his other babies. Perhaps, that was because of the traumatic circumstances of their birth. Or that they were Jen’s final offering to the Goddess. The why didn’t really matter. Not to Sam. What matter was that his beloved Omega was troubled. Jensen was withdrawn. Unnaturally subdued. Distant. Depressed. It pained Sam to see him this way. Even though both Ellen and Castiel assured him that this brooding, introspective phase was commonly experienced by retired Babymakers. Sam wanted only happiness for Jensen and a future together.

A future. Their future.

"May I join you?” Sam asked rhetorically. He hoped it was a rhetorical question. These days, it was hard to tell how welcome he would be. Some days...

“Sure. Come meet the newest member of the household.” Jensen turned to him, a smile- an actual smile- upon his lips. 

“What? Who? Huh?” Sam’s confusion could be forgiven. 

“Come see! He invited himself in.” Jensen gestured down by his feet.

Curiosity engaged, Sam came nearer. Being close to Jen was never a problem. Just sometimes a bit of a heartache.

“Isn’t he cute?” In the space between Jensen’s feet, was a gopher tortoise contentedly chomping on a strawberry. “He showed up for breakfast! He’s really been pigging out!”

“Well I don’t know if he qualifies as cute but I’ll give you-“ Sam cocked his head, searching for the proper adjective. “Interesting?” 

“I can go with interesting.“ Jensen said, consideringly. “What should we name him?”

‘We.’ Sam liked the sound of that. “I don’t know. Never thought I’d have to name a turtle.”

“Not a turtle. He’s a tortoise. Or maybe he’s, a she. What do you think? Maybe we should check under his shell? Her shell?”

“I’m not lifting that thing. It might bite me!”

“Oh, is my big, strong Alpha afraid of a little turtle?” Jensen teased.

“It’s not a turtle. I’m reliably informed, it’s a tortoise. And its not little either.”

“My big, strong Alpha, afraid of a tortoise.”

“I’m not afraid.” Sam huffed, hiding his pleasure at being called Jen's. “I just think Rover deserves his- or her- privacy. After all we’ve just met.”

“Rover, eh?”

Sam shrugged. “He did wander in here uninvited.”

“Well, Rover, it is then. Welcome to the neighborhood, Rover.” He smiled up at Sam. "Come join us."

Jensen shifted into a more comfortable position, a more favorable position, making room for Sam on the wide chaise lounge. He eyed the small basket Sam carried. “What you got there?”

“A gift. For you. Missouri was at the Market today. Doing good business, just like I thought she would. She was sorry not to see you. She sent you this with her best wishes.” He handed over the gift of dried fruits and nuts, hoping to see anticipation or delight further brighten Jen's features. Everyone liked presents, especially his beloved. So it saddened Sam to see Jensen again turn introspective.

“It wouldn’t have been right for me to go out in public. Not yet.” In answer to Sam’s frown, he added quickly. "Everyone would probably still fuss over me. It will get easier once the Council selects the next Babymaker. Don’t worry I will socialize when the time is right. Just not yet."

"The choice has been made. It hasn't been announced yet but Father said I could tell you. If you are interested..."

"Of course I'm interested! The whole village wants to know! I bet that it's Charlie." Sam's expression had him second guessing himself. "Don't tell me that they settled for that lame excuse for an Omega, Samandriel. He's got no spirit, no grit. I bet he won't carry more than triplets!"

"Not Samandriel. Not Charlie." Sam was enjoying the byplay of curiosity and frustration animating Jensen's features. But he wouldn't tease him about such a serious matter. "The House Matron presented a third candidate - an Omega who surprised everyone with an early first Heat. He's a little on the precocious side but certainly older than you were when you were chosen."

"He? Who? Come on, Sam, don't tease me!"

"Jack. Maybe you remember him from the Orphan House? He's one of Castiel's issue. The spitting image of him, in fact. No mistaking who bore him!"

"Jack..." Jension struggled to put a face to the name. "Jack. Yeah, I remember him! A little guy. Could never keep his shoelaces tied. Kind of gangly and goofy. Almost always tripping over his own feet. But a sweet kid like a puppy, just wanting to please."

"Sounds about right." Sam agreed, "But a lot can change in seven years. The kid has grown up."

Jensen, well knew the changes that seven years in service as the Babymaker could produce. The weight of the priecings through his nipples were a constant reminder. The lacy pattern of stretch marks upon his abdomen were indelible proof. The blessing of young lives growing in the Community were a testament to his seven years as the Babymaker. Without him realizing it, a small smile graced Jensen's lips.

"That's good. If he looks like Cas, the kid must be a real looker."

"He is. But I prefer my Omegas," Sam shifted position to wrap an arm around Jensen's shoulders, "To be blond, green eyed beauties. I set very high standards, you know? Only the best!"

"I've heard that." Jensen answered, happy to play along. "And would it spur you on if said Omega took his bells out of retirement while you knot him, eh, Alpha?"

"Oh, indeed it would, my sweet Omega. It would drive me absolutely wild!" Sam tightened his embrace. He moved to nuzzle the curve of Jensen's neck. He traced kisses over the healed collarbone as he tugged gently on the small ring piercing Jen's breast. Sam could feel his shaft thickening, elongating. He drew in a drew breath filling his lungs, all his being with the essence of Jensen aroused and wanting him. Yes, this was how it should be! 

Jensen sank his fingers into Sam's long mane. Oh, his Sammy knew all the right places to touch, to kiss. He curled his fingers into a fist, pulled back to gain control. Sam's head rose, tilted back so Jensen could claim his lips, open his mouth to accept his tongue. It would be easy to surrender to passion here and now. But.... Jensen squirmed free of Sam's embrace. He brushed a kiss across the eager mouth as he rose. 

"Give me five minutes." He whispered against Sam's lips. "I'll be waiting for you in the bed chamber." He offered a flirtatious wink as he stepped away. "With bells on!"

Sam stifled a moan of frustrated lust as he rolled to his side. Rover stared up at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

"You aren’t invited." Sam told the complacent beast. "Sit! Stay!" The hell with five minutes, Sam decided, as leapt off the chaise. He'd waited— they had waited long enough! Seven years was too damn long!

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I had begun this story intending it to be a quick one shot, one chapter piece. As you can seen it has grown, much like Jensen's belly. Frankly it has become too long and unwieldy to continue as a single chapter story. Every time I open it to add more, I worry that I will accidentally delete all or some of it. (I've done it before working on other stories when I hit the wrong icon or fell asleep and my IPad timed out.) For any reader who objects to the basic premise: the multiple births, oversized newborns and overall wanton sexuality of The Omegas, that was established as the parameters by the original inspiration, "The Babymaker" by Anonymous. I will confess I have taken it to the extreme with Jensen.


End file.
